Through the Cracks
by come.josephine.95
Summary: Well hidden in the first class section of the RMS Titanic, two girls are slowly slipping over the edge. Are they destined to be casualties of the life they were born into, or will a chance encounter help them back out of the cracks they've fallen through?
1. Setting Sail

Through the Cracks

**Alrighty, first things first. The idea for this story came from BellaVision, and she is just as much a part of it as I am, so if every once in a while you could pop in and thank here [if and] when you review this one, that'd be great.  
Secondly, because this is a new story, updates might be a bit slow. I'm hoping to update Endless Diamond Sky once a week, and this one once every week or two. When I'm done EDS, this one will get all of the attention for a little bit, and then, like I said, I have another story planned out. Once I publish that one, the same thing will apply; that is to say, this one will get updated a little more often.  
Lastly, this is quite a bit... err, I guess you could say **_**darker**_** than EDS, but it actually is what I'm more used to writing, so hopefully it comes out okay.  
Tell me how you like it! :D**

Chapter One

_The life that I knew - it's through, and I'm gonna need you more than ever._

April 10th, 1912

Today is the day that I'm going to start a new life in America. I am leaving behind my dead mother and father in England to spend the rest of my life in America with my uncle Caledon, whom I've only met four times in my entire life, ever. How exciting.

I have not shed a single tear for my parents, not because I wouldn't like to, but because I know it would just make Uncle Cal angry. He wasn't very close with my father – his brother – and the only reason he has me now is because they had no other siblings. If I could have it any other way, believe me I would, but I guess that's just the way it's going to be from now on.

Any minute now, we'll be pulling up to the Southampton docks, where we'll board the _RMS Titanic_,bound for America. I don't particularly want to go to America, because I've heard that the people there are rude and eat poorly, and they will surely make fun off my accent. Uncle Cal is a shining example of the type of person Americans are supposed to be, which doesn't bode well for them. The only remotely pleasant things about this new chapter of my life, the only reason I'm holding out the slightest ounce of hope, is Uncle Cal's fiancée Rose. I don't know her very well, but from what I've seen thus far, she's in the same boat as me- pardon the pun.

Rose comes from a well-to-do family whom, from what I've seen, absolutely despises her and vice versa. She is seventeen and engaged to my uncle, which means that she and I are doomed to the same fate. At least we'll have each other. After all, Rose is only four years older than me. Hopefully we can become friends.

As we approach the docks, Rose takes my hand in hers and squeezes it in a silent gesture of support.

"Are you excited, Maddie?" she asks me. Before I get the chance to answer, Uncle Cal jumps down her throat as usual.

"Her name is Madeline, Rose, not Maddie. I would appreciate it if you called her that from now on." For someone who is marrying her, he sure treats Rose like dirt.

I try to hide my anger as I say, "It's okay, Uncle Cal. I like being called Maddie. It's what my parents called me," I explain, turning to face Rose as I say this. I thought I made it pretty obvious that that last bit was directed at her, but apparently my uncle didn't get the message.

"Well, it's not the name they gave you," he snaps, just as the car pulls up at the Southampton docks. This is it. We are on our way to start our new lives. For Uncle Cal and Rose's mother, Ruth, the _Titanic_ is truly the ship of dreams- dreams of money, luxury, comfort and eternal satisfaction. For Rose and I, it's like a slave ship- the stuff of nightmares rather than dreams.

Uncle Cal helps first me, then Rose, out of the car. As always, people stare at us. I really can't blame them.

The dock is full of all sorts of people, a lot of them evidently third class passengers. People like us- Rose, Uncle Cal and I- we aren't supposed to care about them. They have nothing to do with us. My heart can't help but break, though, when I think of the enormous fortune that awaits me in Philadelphia, and how I'll be unable to share it with these people who deserve it so much more than I do.

Tearing my eyes away from the poor people in front of me, I look up at the brand new ship that awaits us. I have to admit, _Titanic_ is breathtaking. Rose, however, did not appear to agree.

"It hardly looks bigger than the _Mauritania_," she says dryly.

"Nonsense," Uncle Cal replies. "It's at least 100 feet longer than the _Mauritania,_ and far more luxurious. You can be blasé about some things, Rose, but not about _Titanic._"

I choose to keep my comments to myself on this one, not wanting to cause a fight. Things are stressful enough as it is. Uncle Cal continues to rant and rave about the stupid boat, which apparently God himself could not sink- what a lie! It's made of metal. Anything made of metal can sink. Instead of listening to him babble like a mad man, I take in everything that is around me.

Our servants unload our luggage as we make our way towards the ship. Beside us is a little girl sitting on her father's shoulders. She reminds me of myself perhaps six or seven years ago, and the image tugs at my heart. She is so very lucky, I think to myself.

"That's a huge boat, isn't it, Cora?" the father says to the little girl. He has a British accent that I swear sounds just like my father's, and I begin to feel tears welling up behind my eyes. I quickly swallow them down so that no one will see my weakness.

"Daddy," the little girl replies, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, "it's not a boat. It's a ship!"

She is so cute, so innocent. It wasn't such a long time ago that I was like that, too. It just feels like it was.

"Come on, Maddie," Rose says, linking her arm through mine. "We don't want to get lost in this crowd."

Such a statement sounds strangely profound if you're listening with the right mindset. Rose and I are both young, small and confused, not just about this trip but about life in general. Perhaps it is not getting lost in the literal crowd that scares her- after all, everyone's headed to the same place. Maybe she's afraid to dwell too long in what this group of third class passengers represents - excitement, joy, and, most of all, hope – at the risk of being left behind in the only world she's ever known.

As sad as my story is, I cannot imagine how Rose must be feeling. At least Cal is my uncle. He must, in some small way, at least care about me, even if he doesn't exactly love me. He has no such connection to Rose- no biological duty to look after her. No reason to treat her like more than a piece of dirt off the bottom of his shoe. Unfortunately, this lack of obligation is apparently very clear to him, and he has no intentions of becoming an overachiever any time soon.

The _Titanic_ truly is massive. Uncle Cal gives our tickets to someone, and another man directs us to our room. We are staying in some sort of special room with a specific name; I forget what it's called but it's like a suite, only bigger. It has two semi-detached bedrooms for Rose and Uncle Cal, with a shared breakfast area and two other bedrooms for Ruth and I. It also has a sort of living room, although I don't understand why. It is such a waste of money when the third class passengers are sleeping six to a room or something just as ridiculous! They don't even have a bathroom in their room; we have three.

As I walk around what is to be my bedroom, I think of the little girl I'd seen out on the docks. I had been jealous of her because she was with her parents. Sitting down on the bed that was covered in brand new, luxury silk sheets, I wonder where she'll be sleeping tonight. Maybe she's not so lucky after all.

Just as I think that, there's a knock on my door.

"Can I come in, Maddie?" asks a soft, sweet voice that could only belong to one person. "It's Rose."

"Please do," I say, really not wanting to be alone.

Rose opens the door and sits down on the bed next to me. A few stray hairs float about her delicate face, having been blown out of her tight updo by the brisk April wind. Rose is the prettiest person I've ever seen in my life. She has long, amazingly curly red hair, fair skin and big green eyes. She looks very grown up for her seventeen years. Sometimes I wish I looked like her. Some of the girls I went to school with in England were jealous of my long blonde hair, but I never understood why. In my opinion, Rose is far more beautiful than I could ever imagine being.

"So how do you feel about all this, since nobody's bothered to ask you so far?"

I could have said the exact same thing to her, but I wouldn't. For someone so intuitive, Rose isn't very good at figuring out her own life.

"It's alright, I suppose," I lie. "It's not like I really have a choice in the matter anyway."

"I suppose it's not," Rose says. Her voice is completely void of emotion as she speaks, which is something I've noticed about her many times. Just to look at her, Rose seems like an amazingly kind, happy and exuberant type of person, but even one really good conversation will tell you otherwise. In fact, she seems to be standing on the edge of a cliff, about to fall into an eternal canyon of darkness. Maybe I'm the only one who notices because I'm the only one who feels even remotely the same way, or maybe the other do notice but like to pretend they don't. Either way, time and again it seems that people forget that Rose has feelings, too.

We are both silent for a long time. I wonder if she'd thinking the same thing I am- that life, in general, is grossly unfair. It is unfair that we have to spend the rest of our lives with the most selfish man on earth. It is unfair that some people get a whole bedroom and bathroom to themselves while other have to share a cabin with five people they've never met before. It is unfair that parents have to die. It's all unfair, and that's just the way it is.

"Cal and I are going to hang some painting up in my room," Rose explains. "Would you like to help?"

"Alright," I say, preferring to be with Rose than to be alone rather than actually wanting to hang up paintings.

She and I start to leave, but she stops and turns back around, as though remembering something very important.

Laughing, she says, "Maddie, are you going to take that silly hat off any time soon?"

I laugh with her, reaching up to touch the brim of my pale green hat adorned with pink ribbon that matches my dress perfectly. Rose absolutely hates hats, and I can fully understand why. They're a symbol of our social status- a status which Race can't stand. For some reason, though, I've always loved them.

Growing up, my family wasn't quite as well off as Rose and Cal are, but we certainly had money, and my mother always wore hats. Big ones, small ones, white ones, feathered ones... she always had one on her head. I've picked up the habit from her, and now it was a way of preserving the influence she's had on my life. I now own a couple of hats that used to belong to her, and of all her possessions, they are the only ones that still smell just like my mother. As dumb as it sounds, I think of her every time I put one on, and it reminds me that no one is ever really gone once they've loved us and left their mark on our lives.

"I like my silly hat, thank you very much. C'mon, Rose," I say, shutting my bedroom door behind us. "Let's go see about those paintings."

Inside Rose's room, Uncle Cal is already examining the paintings she brought with her from England. Personally, I don't think he has a right to be in the bedroom of a woman who is not his wife. Not that she was sleeping or anything, but still. He was in there even before she was.

"Ah, Madeline, Rose," Uncle Cal declares, spreading his arms out wide. "Just the people I was looking for. Whose paintings are these, again, dear?"

Rose thinks about it for a moment, picking on of them up and looking at it with an approving eye. I could have told him right away- they're done by a Spanish man by the name of Pablo Picasso, one of the most skilled artists I've ever seen.

"Something Picasso," Rose explains, hanging the painting in her hands beside a window. Through the window, the sun is shining, and I can already smell the sea. All of a sudden, I yearn to burst out onto the deck and stay there all day. I feel hot and suffocated in these room- like I need to break free.

"Something Picasso..." Uncle Cal echoed. "He won't amount to a thing."

My God, he's an idiot. He knows absolutely nothing about art. Rose is too shy to respond to his lunacy, but I'm sure not.

"I like them," I say simply. Even a small defiance like that is sometimes enough to tick Uncle Cal off, but I couldn't care less at this point. "They seem... oh, I don't know... magical, almost."

Uncle Cal laughed coldly. "Please, Madeline. You and I both know as well as I that magic doesn't exist, least of all in these... finger paintings."

It's not his words that hurt me- I really couldn't care less what he thinks of the stupid paintings. It's the deeper meaning behind them. Uncle Cal has no sense of wonder or appreciation for the world around him. All he cares about is money and power and getting richer than he already is. He's like a constant force pressing down on me and destroying my spirit.

"I'm with Maddie," Rose says, jumping to my defence immediately. "They're almost like dreams- there's truth but no logic."

Rolling his eyes, Uncle Cal turns away, saying, "Whatever, ladies. I'm off to go find a brandy." Of course.

"Well, that was nice of him," Rose says, half-joking, whole-hearted.

We stood in silence for a few long minutes. The room we were in was all a dark wood- the floors, the walls, the ceiling. It was empty and rather depressing, to be honest. There were windows to let the light in, but even that didn't get far. The deep brown of the walls appeared to suck out every ounce of life that tried to get in. Rose and I were going to spend the next hour or so covering it up with colourful images of the outside world, but we would never really be able to fill the gaping hole where the feeling of home was supposed to be. In a way, that was what our lives were going to be like from now on. On the outside, it would be beautiful and luxurious. Underneath all of that, though, it would be empty, with no source of life. When you look at it like that, you have to ask yourself what is even the point of going on?

"So, Maddie," Rose says, hanging a landscape that I recognize as Monet on the other side of the room, "what do you think of _Titanic_ so far?"

"It's big," I sigh, unable to think of a better word. "Really big."

Rose smiles at me sympathetically, as though she understands how I am feeling. She probably does, after all.

"It is, isn't it?" She sighs and rubs her hands together. "You know what, Maddie? I haven't gotten a chance to really talk to you yet. What do you say we save all this for later and go take a walk on the deck?"

For a moment, I am hesitant. I do very much want to talk to Rose, but I worry that she'll want to talk about things I'd rather avoid. Rose's father died a few years ago, so in a way she understands my situation. Still, I don't want to talk about it- the wounds are too fresh; too raw. On top of that, Rose has enough stuff going on in her life- I don't need her worrying about me. I also don't was to talk about Uncle Cal, America, or the _RMS Titanic_, because they all just generally make my life more horrible.

I take my chances when I say, "That sounds nice."

* * *

Outside, the sun is shining and seagulls are flying overhead. I notice two mean at the bow of the ship, pointing at something far in the distance. One of them has sandy blond hair and blue eyes. I can't help but notice that he is very handsome. Evidently Rose didn't see him, because she would surely have said something if she had.

It's really warm for April, and the deck is full of people. In fact, it's basically a perfect day. Too bad God couldn't spare a bit of that sunshine and put it into my life.

"Maddie," Rose says, linking her arm in mine like she'd done earlier, "I know you must be scared. You've hardly said a word, and that's not like you. I understand completely; in fact, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared myself. But I want you to-"

"I'm not scared," I say, cutting her off. "I've already seen the bad side of life. This is where it starts to get good, isn't it? I'm off on a new and exciting adventure." I can't tell what the smile on my face looks like, but it sure feels fake.

Rose stops walking and gazes at me for a long time. I start to worry that I've upset her. What I'd said was a blatant, outright lie, and it wouldn't surprise me if she knew it. Still, I had to say it. I have to be strong, for Rose's sake. Her journey was going to be difficult enough, and I don't need her thinking she had to look after me as well.

"Okay," she says simply, after a long silence. "I just want you to know that I'm here, if you ever need someone to talk to. I know this must be hard for you, after losing your parents and all..." her voice trails off after she says exactly what I'd been afraid she would.

"Rose, it's okay," I say through my teeth, more to assure myself than anyone else. "Truly, it is."


	2. Ghosts Don't Bleed

Chapter Two

_My wounds cry for the grave – My soul cries for deliverance_

April 12th, 1912

The sun peaked in through my window at far too ungodly an hour this morning. I tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. No sooner had I rolled back over than Rose appeared at the foot of my bed, telling me that it was time to get up.

I pulled myself groggily out of bed and, with the help of my maid, Nicole, dressed in a beaded, bright yellow lace gown. To be honest, it quite frustrates me not knowing how to dress myself. Of course I don't mind having help with my corset, because it would probably be impossible to do for one's self anyway, but it would really be nice to put on my own dress some time. I think that tomorrow I might ask Nicole, as much as Uncle Cal would probably disapprove of it. What does he know, anyway? With that resolution planted firmly in my mind, I went about the rest of the morning with something of an air of superiority. By this time tomorrow, I will be independent!

It's now lunchtime, and I already wish I was back in bed. Being around all this fresh air sure tires you out. Rose's mother apparently knows some important people here, which has somehow gotten us seated with Mr. Bruce Ismay, the owner of the ship. As though one could own the _Titanic_.Personally, I couldn't think of more boring company.

When the waiter comes to take our orders, he turns first to me and then to Rose. Uncle Cal, however, butts in as usual.

"We'll both have the lamb, with a bit of mint sauce. You like lamb, don't you, sweet pea?"

Doesn't he realize he's in public? I can only imagine how embarrassed Rose must be to have him treat her like a little house pet. She nods slightly but diverts her eyes away from his, evidently ashamed by his antics. I want to speak up and tell him that women, particularly Rose, can order their food for themselves, but I don't want to cause a fuss.

Molly Brown, the well-to-do woman who sits across the table from Rose, snorts. "You gonna cut her meat for her there, too, Cal?" she asks, laughing at her own joke. Touché! I can tell by the expressions on their faces that Uncle Cal and Ruth don't like Molly much, but so far she's the nicest person I've met on this ship. At the very least, she's better company than Mr. Bruce Supreme-Master-of-the-Universe Ismay.

As great as Molly is, I can easily understand how such a comment would make Rose feel extremely awkward. So it comes as no surprise when she blatantly changes the subject.

"Whose idea was the name _Titanic_?" she asks, in her best uppity, posh, I'm-a-proper-lady voice. "Was it yours, Mr. Ismay?"

The Superior Master of the Universe nods. "I wanted the name to convey sheer size, and size means stability, luxury, and above all, strength," he explains, as though that wasn't obvious.

"Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay?" Rose asks, taking a long drag from her cigarette holder. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with size may be of particular interest to you."

I am about to jump in and say that I find Dr. Freud's work to be very insightful, but before I can open my mouth, Ruth is jumping down Rose's throat.

"What's gotten into you?" she hisses, as though to suggest that stating a simple opinion is a criminal offence. I swear, that woman is crazy. "And please, Rose, could you stop that? You know I find it to be a disgusting habit," she says, indicating the cigarette holder resting between Rose's thin fingers.

"She knows," Uncle Cal says, taking the thing from her hands. How rude! Personally, I agree with Ruth- smoking is rather gross, but it's Rose's decision to make – not anyone else's.

"Excuse me," Rose says, rising from her chair and placing her serviette gently in her place. To me, she is genuinely amazing – such a lady, but full of fiery personality at the same time. I hope that I can be like that someday.

As soon as she's out of earshot, I turn on my uncle.

"How dare you?" I demand, trying my hardest not to shout. "That was so rude! You can't just take something out of someone's hands like that! It's her decision, not yours!"

I can only imagine the look plastered onto Uncle Cal's face must be one of absolute confusion and shock, but I get up to leave before I can see it. As I walk away, I hear someone say, "She's a pistol, Cal. Both of 'em, in fact. You're in for a hell of a ride."

Good old Molly Brown. I think I like her.

I don't know where Rose went, but I have a feeling she might be in her room. As I make my way back, I'm still trying to wrap my mind around how Uncle Cal could be so utterly idiotic. He treats Rose like a slave rather than a fiancée! He has absolutely no place bossing her around the way he does constantly. I wonder how her mother allows it- oh, I know it's an arranged thing for status and money and the like, but come one! How can someone let their daughter be bullied the way Rose is? Is everybody just blind or something? Surely there are other men out there with just as much money as Uncle Cal!

And yet, as much as I would like to, I could never truly wish for that. I don't want her to have to suffer any more but at the same time, I'm so glad that I have her; that we can at least be together when we're stuck with Uncle Cal. I know that it hurts Rose terribly to be in this situation, but that selfish, childish person who's buried deep inside of me and who I like to pretend does not exist is so afraid of doing this on my own that it can't wish for Rose to be happy. I hate myself for it, but it's true. I am too afraid and to pathetic to do this alone.

When I open the door to our room, I am surprised to see that no one is there. Maybe Rose has gone out onto the deck. I briefly consider going to see if I can find her, but if she's gone outside then obviously she wants to be alone. I don't blame her.

Her room is so very dark – the paintings have done a really excellent job of brightening the place up, but the whole mood in here is not a pleasant one. In fact, I find it almost hard to breathe when I stay in it for too long. I wonder if that's how Rose feels – like she's walking into a void of dark nothingness, with the walls pressing in against her.

Just then, I hear somebody behind me shout.

"Never embarrass me like that again, Rose!" It's Uncle Cal. Here we go again. "Do you understand me?"

Silence.

"Godammit, Rose! Do you understand me?"

She continues to ignore him. Good girl! I cringe, though, when I hear that spine-tingling sound of flesh against flesh. His huge hand against her delicate, fair cheek…

My God, he hit her! He hit a woman, and his own fiancée no less! What is wrong with him? I want to do something- to run out there, kicking and screaming and telling him never to do anything like that ever again, but I can't. I am rooted to the spot. I feel like throwing up.

A door is slammed, and I hear a gasp.

"Maddie…"

I turn around, looking into Rose's fearful green eyes. She's on the verge of tears, I can tell. Her shoulders are shaking, there are goose bumps on her arms and she can barely choke out the words that are developing on her tongue. As much as I need her with me, sometimes I wish I could take her place, or at least take a tiny sliver of her pain away and carry it myself. The life she's lived up until this point has been burden enough; she doesn't need any more emotional turmoil.

"W-what happened?" I ask, finding my voice now that it's too late. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Maddie. It's all okay. Everything's fine."

Rose sits down on the edge of the bed, visibly shaken. Her face is so white and her hands are trembling. She knows I heard everything that just happened and there's nothing she can do about it, so why does she bother denying it? I can tell she's hurting, though, so I leave it alone.

I sit down on the bed next to her and she grabs my hand immediately. Pretending that everything is okay, she looks up at me and smiles the fakest smile I've ever seen. As much as I love Rose, I hate it when she does this. I already get treated enough like a small child by Uncle Cal; I don't need it from the one person in the whole world that I can trust. Still, I convince myself that maybe this is more for her rather than me, and I play along.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asks.

I nod willingly, knowing that I am her only confidant here. I expect her to tell me some tragic tale of abuse and depression; about how she hates Cal and her mother and even herself. What she says is not anywhere near that.

"I was out on the deck just now, and I think I must have seen the most handsome man in the entire world."

"Really?" I ask, completely befuddled by her fake happiness. I am thirteen years old, for Christ's sake! I know when something bad is happening; can she not see that? I'm not a child. She doesn't have to make everything go away just for me. I am sick and tired of being lied to! But then… Rose needs me, doesn't she?

Rose nods, still smiling. "He was down on the third class deck, drawing a picture of a little girl and her father. He was sort of staring at me… well, they all were. I'm sure they don't see people like us very often. But I saw him only for a moment, then I looked away. Oh, Maddie, he was so handsome. He had blond hair and blue eyes and- oh, I can't describe people very well! But you have to meet him someday!"

I laugh, playing along with her little game. I know she's just trying to take my mind off what happened, but I can't help but think of the man I saw yesterday at the bow of the ship.

"Maybe tomorrow we'll sneak down into the third class and see if we can't find him," I joke. "How old was he?"

"Oh, about my age," Rose says, after thinking about it a moment. "Maybe a bit older. Far too old for you, anyway," she laughs.

For a long time, we say nothing. It occurs to me that perhaps this whole thing with this man isn't entirely meaningless. Maybe Rose wants so badly to be away from Uncle Cal that she is actually harbouring some slight hope of this man coming and sweeping her off her feet. What would I do then? I can't possibly live all alone with Uncle Cal!

"Rose?" I say quietly, turning around to face her, "When you were my age, what kind of person did you see yourself marrying?"

Rose doesn't say anything for a little while. She stares at the ceiling, looking very pensive and sort of sad.

"You know I'm not that much older than you, right?"

I nod. Whatever that means.

"Well, I guess I wanted what every girl wants. To be swept off her feet by a handsome man who cared about me more than anything else in the world." There's a dreamy sort of look in her eye as she says this that makes me think that maybe she had a point after all. She's really not that much older than me, after all.

I wrack my brain for a way to ask what I want to, which is whether or not she's interested in seeing this man again and maybe even being with him when we dock. Instead, I ask a much less specific and definitely less private question.

Still holding onto her hand, I look her in the eye and say, "Do we ever really stop wanting that, Rose?"

The look in her eyes – one of sadness, fear and despair – tells me that maybe I've struck a nerve. I instantly regretting ever having asked it, and I wish there was a way I could take it back. Unfortunately, once words come out of your mouth, you can't undo them. We are all ultimately bound by the words we choose to say and, more often, the words we do not.

She appears to think about it long and hard before replying, "Honestly, Maddie, I don't think so. But you know such things are only fantasies, right?"

"I know."

Something in Rose's eyes, though, tells me that maybe she doesn't know it all too well herself.

* * *

That night, as we get ready for dinner, Rose comes into my room to ask me for help with something.

"Maddie, could you please fasten this bracelet for me? I can't get it and I've no idea why."

"Sure," I say happily, the afternoon's events nearly gone from my mind.

I fiddle with the clasp of the silver and diamond bracelet for a moment, trying to work it into place. It appeared as though the clasp was sort of caught in itself. Just as I'm about to work it out, the bracelet slips from my hand, revealing something I've never noticed before- a thin line of scars on Rose's wrist. Instinctively, I look up at her. Our eyes meet for half a second before she tears hers away. I know what I saw, though. Fear. Anger. Hopelessness. Self-hatred.

"I've – umm… I've j-just about got it," I stammer, avoiding eye contact with Rose. I can't tear my gaze away from them, though… deep red cuts that will forever taint her beauty, marking her as another casualty of a life she was never meant to lead. A second later, I manage to get the bracelet fastened. Rose is tearing away from my hold before I'm even finished.

Never before have I seen anyone in such a state. I can't believe it's come down to this. I knew Rose was sad and alone – depressed, even, but I had no idea she was… God, I can't even think it. I know I've only known her for a little while, but she could have come to me. She could have at least told me that she was scared. Over the last few weeks, she's put up this façade of happiness and strength. She's been acting as though I need her to be my rock. Far from it! I don't understand any of this… I don't understand why Uncle Cal thinks he has the right to treat Rose like a show horse, but at the same time I don't understand how someone could possibly feel so desperate. How hard must one's life be to hit rock bottom like that? A knot develops in the pit of my stomach, and I feel like I'm going to be sick as we get ready to go.

I must be shaking as we make our way to the dining room, because Uncle Cal keeps eyeing me quizzically.

"Madeline, is something wrong?" he asks. "Are you feeling sick?"

"She's fine!" Rose snaps. Her eyes find mine, and I can sense the desperation in them. "Right, Madeline?"

I nod. Rose should know better than to think I would betray her like that, least of all to Uncle Cal.

"Yes," I reply, hoping to exude calm and poise, "I'm quite fine."

"Well, if you're sure," Uncle Cal replies, trying to sound worried but clearly no longer caring. Obviously.

The silence between the four of us is so awkward that I want to run in the opposite direction just to break free from its holds. Uncle Cal is not stupid; he must know that something is wrong and that in involves both Rose and I. The truth is that he really couldn't care less what happens to us, so he ignores it. I wish I could say the same for Rose's mother. Rather than being cruel and heartless, like Uncle Cal, sometimes I think Ruth is just a complete and total idiot.

We sit with the same group at dinner was we do out lunch. I stare around the room and the same gaudy chandeliers and ugly place settings as they talk about the same boring things and don't even notice what is going on around them. Personally, I find it hard not to.

I can't help but stare at Rose – the numb, mindless way in which she cuts her food, sips from her glass, nods and smiles as people say things to her. All the while, I am watching ever little movement she makes with her hands. How could I have missed them? Now that I know they're there, I can't peel my eyes away for even a second. Thin little red marks- four of them, standing in stark contrast to her milky white skin. In a way, they are almost beautiful… dark and depressing and disgusting, but with a sort of hidden beauty that I can't really describe.

The longer I look at them, the more unable I am to focus on anything else. It is as though I am under some sort of spell. My eyes follow as her hand, still holding her crab fork, moves underneath the table cloth. I don't think she even knows what she's doing, it's so awful. The fork goes into her skin, deeper and deeper until she manages to draw blood. It puddles a little bit on her wrist, forming a thick, silky droplet that becomes a thin trail of blood running down her forearm.

_Rose, _I try to whisper, but words are not what rises up into my throat. Instead, it's hot, sour bile. Maybe I am getting sick… I must be…

I rise from the table and run out of the room as fast as I can. There is a public restroom just outside of the dining room, and it is there that I completely empty the contents of my stomach. Pain jolts through my body, but only half of it is from vomiting. The rest of it is between the pain from a hundred wounds, both seen and unseen… Pain for myself, pain for Rose… just everything. Everything in this goddamn world.

Never before have I felt so completely… completely… oh, I don't even have a word for it! Almost betrayed. Lost. Angry. Like everything I ever knew about life has been rendered null and void. All my life, my parents taught me that people are good; that the world in general is a nice place to be. Oh, how wrong they were! How can so much hurt and pain go unnoticed? How can people be so selfish? They're all so absorbed in their own petty existence that they don't even notice when someone among them is dying!

Shaking violently, I wipe my mouth with a clammy hand. The world is truly evil and unfair. If there is a God out there, how could He allow this to happen? There are so many people in the world – disgusting, selfish people like Uncle Cal and Ruth and Mr. Ismay - who are so happy. How does someone like Rose – beautiful, loving, compassionate – mange to slip through the cracks?

There's no point in me going back to the dining room. Watching Rose will just make me sick again. Instead, I head for my room, wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet to mull things over, and maybe even a short nap.

We are all going to die.

That is my first thought when I wake up to the sound of screaming; of things being thrown around and smashed and kicked. It only takes me a moment to realize that, rather than coming from the whole ship, the noises are coming solely from a room close to mine. And then I remember.

I am completely petrified of whatever Rose is doing to herself. I just want to block it all out; to make it go away. Like the very small child I am always trying to convince myself I am not, I pull the blankets higher above my head as though they will protect me from harm. The chaos is short lived, and after a final, loud smash that I can only imagine is a mirror being broken, a door slams and then there is silence.

I feel like I am going to be sick again. The air around me all of a sudden feels very cold and empty. I lay under the blankets, scared and shivering, for what seems like a really long time. Maybe it is ten minutes. Maybe thirty. Maybe an hour. To me, it feels like a day. I will my mind to go blank, to stop thinking about the scars and the blood and the screaming.

After a while, someone softly opens my door. It is Rose, followed behind by Uncle Cal. She still looks fearful, but in a much better disposition than before. Uncle Cal, on the other hand, is furious. His cheeks are a bright red colour and there's a dark and frightening look to his eyes that I've never seen before and hope I never have to see again.

"What's the matter, Madeline?" he asks, kneeling down beside my bed. "You looked as though you've seen a ghost before you left the table."

_You're wrong,_ I think._ Ghosts don't bleed._

"I guess you were right earlier," I say tiredly. "I was sitting there and all of a sudden I felt ill. I was sick in the restroom and then I came back here to lie down. I'm really sorry, but I do feel a bit better now." Another lie. I'm not sick anymore, but I feel just as crushed as ever.

Uncle Cal pats me on the cheek and smiles. "Well, then, you'd better get your sleep. Just ask Nicole if you need anything." Of course. Don't ask me, your uncle and your guardian. Ask the maid.

He turns on his heels and walks out of the room, but Rose stays beside me. Something has happened. After she came in and trashed the room, something changed. I wish I knew what it was, but I don't have the courage to ask.

"You don't have to lie like that for me, Maddie," she says, sounding completely void of emotion.

Really? Honestly? How could she say that and keep a straight face? What a hypocrite she's being! I wish she would open up to me. Oh, I don't need to know all the gory details of her relationship with my uncle, but I want her to know that she can come to me when she feels desperate. She could have told me long before it came down to this, if only to alleviate a little bit of her pain. I just wish I could make her feel better, but I can't help her if she refuses to help herself!

Before I turn around to face the other side of the room, I say, "Neither do you."


	3. Pieces of the Puzzle

Chapter Three

_I'll be strong, I'll be wrong, oh but life goes on. Oh, I'm just a girl trying to find a place in this world._

April 13th, 1912

Today is very different from yesterday – I can feel it. The sense of despair and anguish has at least been slightly offset, if not completely alleviated. As am putting on a hat that matches my light blue dress before I go outside, Uncle Cal makes an announcement.

"Madeline, we are going to have a guest with us for dinner tonight," he explains. "Last night, Rose was leaning over the edge of the ship to get a good look at the… the propellers when she nearly fell into the water. A third-class man named Mr. Dawson saved her life, so he will be with us tonight to say thank you."

My uncle carries out his words very slowly, as though he himself does not believe them, but rather he is saying them because they are what he has rehearsed over and over again. They send shivers up and down my spine. Looking at the propellers? Dear Lord, these people are stupid! There's a big difference in trying to jump of a ship and just leaning over the railing. I wasn't even there and I've managed to figure it out in a matter of minutes! Maybe they're just in denial.

"That sounds great," I reply, hiding the shock in my voice. I have to get out of here; just to find a way to clear my head. "Well, I'm off to get some fresh air. I really do feel much better today."

"Excellent," he says absent-mindedly. He is clearly no longer listening. I am just about to open the door and head outside when a voice from behind stops me.

"Ah, Maddie." Just the girl I was looking for!"

It's Rose, sounding extremely cheerful for someone who tried to kill herself just last night. I will never understand that girl. Sometimes I feel like I will never understand any of this; as though I will never know how to be a proper adult. Things have been so confusing lately that I don't even know where to begin to try and make heads and tails of it.

"Yes, Rose?" I ask. I hope she doesn't the way I'm scrutinizing her, but I can't help it. She's all sunny and cheerful and smiley; completely the opposite end of the spectrum from the night before. Clearly something's happened in the last fourteen hours that had caused Rose to make a full 180-degree turn.

"I was just going on a little walk outside," she says "Care to join me?"

"Sure," I reply. "That's where I was going anyway."

"Lovely." There is something in the tone of Rose's voice as she says that which makes me suspect a hidden agenda. As much as I know I shouldn't allow myself the pleasure, I am helpless to stop the excitement building inside of me. Everything about this trip has either been boring or frightening so far, and I can't help but smile at the thought of an adventure.

Once the door is closed behind us, Rose grabs me by the hand and runs ahead, pretty much dragging me behind her. I have absolutely no idea what's going on as we speed through the ornately decorated hallways and out onto the deck, with Rose laughing all the way. Outside, the sunshine is glorious. I have not seen the light of day since boarding the _Titanic_, and the warmth that caresses my body is something I had not realized how much I missed until now.

"Rose!" I exclaim. "What are we doing? What's the rush?"

Without answering, Rose pulls me down two short flights of stairs onto the third class decks. Finally, with both of us out of breath, she stops running.

"Remember that man I told you about yesterday?" she asks, leaning up against the railing, all out of breath and gasping for air.

I nod.

"Well, last night, when I was looking over the edge-"

"You weren't looking at the propellers, Rose! I'm not stupid!" I snap. She knows that, though. She knows I'm not stupid. I realize then that maybe she doesn't care if I know what she was really doing, but rather wants to tell herself otherwise. Instantly, I regret having said it. A shadow falls over Rose's eyes, and for just a fraction of a second the delirious smile is gone from her face. God, I wish I could take it back. The moment passes quickly, though, and it is as though nothing ever happened. I think Rose would make a wonderful actress.

"He saved me," she says simply. "So, I'm going to go down and talk to him and I thought you'd want to come. After all, you seemed pretty enthusiastic at the prospect of meeting him yesterday afternoon."

Oh, so that's who this Dawson character is! He's incredibly handsome, he saved Rose's life, and now he was coming to dinner with us. I'm surprised Uncle Cal isn't insanely jealous. In fact, it's a wonder he's even entertaining the idea of being in the same room as the guy. He really must be in denial. Oh well, that's too bad for him. Now I'm really excited- almost excited enough to forget about the circumstances under which Rose met this man.

"Well, in that case," I say, "let's get going!"

The entrance to the third-class lounge area is down a flight of wooden stairs. In fact, the whole area is made entirely of wood- no fancy cushions, no ornate glass detailing… not even a carpet. It's so unfair! As we move further down the stairs, I can hardly believe my eyes. These people are being treated like rodents! In fact, I would be surprised if steerage is infested with rats. Why do they deserve any less than we do, just because they have less in their pocketbooks? Someone in this room saved a life last night! Doesn't that count for anything? Whoever he is, he sure as hell deserves first class treatment a lot more than most of the people like Ruth and Uncle Cal do.

As Rose and I make our way down the steps, it as though time stands still. Everyone stops what they're doing and stares at us. It does seem rather rude, but I suppose they've never seen people like us before. I recognize the little girl from the docks in Southampton, and my heart breaks. Why does she have to live like this? What did she do wrong? She is sitting on the lap of a vaguely familiar man… the man from the bow! It comes as no surprise to me that this is the man Rose approaches.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Dawson," she says with a smile. Evidently she is overjoyed to be seeing him again, but I can tell by the way she glances over her shoulder that she is just as uncomfortable here as I am. I see the way she tenses up around the people who stare at her like a show horse, wishing she could do something about it.

"It's Jack," he says. Finally, finally, finally, he has a name! All the pieces of the puzzle are falling together. The man from the bow, the man who'd been staring at Rose and who'd saved her life is named Jack Dawson. That's a nice name.

"Jack, I'd like you to meet my… my niece, Madeline Hockley."

I can tell it bothers her to say that because it cements her impending relationship with my uncle.

Extending my hand, I say, "Please, call me Maddie. That's what everybody calls me. Well, everybody worthwhile, anyway."

Rose glances at me, trying and failing to chastise me with her eyes. I know that deep down, she'd caught the reference and thought it was pretty funny herself.

Jack Dawson shakes my hand warmly. "Well, then, Maddie, I'm honoured."

Jack has a very nice smile. There's something about him that makes me feel warm and safe - his whole demeanour is very charming. I can see why Rose likes him so much. Okay, she hasn't actually expressed romantic interest in him so far, but actions speak louder than words, and right now she's smiling flirtatiously and sort of batting her eyelashes. How sweet!

"Jack, can I talk to you, please?" Rose asks. I get the feeling that she kind of wants to be alone with him now, and doesn't really know what to do with me. She probably feels bad about bringing me down here in the first place when she's just going to run off into the sunset with Jack. Truthfully, it doesn't matter. I'm really glad Rose has found somebody she's happy to be around. She could leave me down in steerage for the rest of this trip, so long as she's with Jack and neither of us has to see Uncle Cal again.

Jack places Cora on the ground and, rising from his seat, says, "Sure." They stand there rather awkwardly for a moment, as though they're both waiting for the other one to find an inconspicuous way to get rid of me.

"Do you two want to be left alone?" I ask, smirking at Rose.

"Well…"

"I could stay here," I suggest. "Maybe get to know some of your friends, Jack?"

An Italian man sitting to my left pipes up, "Is 'a no problem. We look after friend of _bella Rosa_." Jack blushes as he says this, and I wonder how he knows Rose's name. Had Jack gone back to his room last night and told his friends all about the beautiful girl whose life he'd saved?

"Really, Fabri?" Jack asks. "It's not too much trouble?"

"No, no," Fabri insists. "You two go off, have your little talk. Tommy and I will 'a stay with Miss Madeline."

Jack and Rose thank his Italian friend and wave goodbye to us then head out onto the deck. As I watch them go, an odd sensation develops in the pit of my stomach. It is not jealousy- if Jack was a few years younger and I a few years older, it might be a different story, but we're not. What I feel is the sense that I am getting into something that is very wrong and deceitful. Even though he's rude and oppressive and possibly psychotic, Uncle Cal is still Rose's fiancé, and it seems as though she is being a tad unfaithful. Haven't we always been taught that such things are the worst sins a woman can commit? Am I aiding Rose in making the biggest mistake of her life? No, that's just silly. Nothing will come of this thing with Jack Dawson, and if it does, then so be it. Rose will be following her heart and getting the hell away from Uncle Cal.

It's just so logical and obvious that I don't know why I still feel bad about this whole thing. Is it maybe, just maybe, that I don't want Rose to leave me? This is exactly how I felt last night. I know Rose absolutely hates her life with my uncle, but how pitiful would mine be without her in it? The truth if Jack is in Rose's life, then I probably won't be. I really wonder if I am strong enough to do this alone.

"Eh, bella regazza!" Fabrizio exclaims. "Come 'a sit with me and Tommy. Tell us about yourself, no?"

I'm feeling a little bit shy as I sit down between Tommy and Fabri. The little girl from Southampton is now sitting on Tommy's lap, smiling at me.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" I ask politely, smiling back at her. I notice that she's holding a porcelain doll in her hand that has flaming red hair just like Rose's. Now that I think about it, she had the doll with her back at the docks, too.

"I'm Cora Cartmell, and I'm six years old. What's your name?"

I laugh heartily at Cora's precocious response. There was a time, not so very long ago really, when I was exactly like Cora.

Fabri, who I figure must have a longer name than just that, says to Cora, "This is Miss Madeline, friend of Jack's _bella Rosa_!"

Cora raises a quizzical eyebrow at the Italian man. "That pretty lady is Uncle Jack's _bella Rosa_? What does that mean, Fabrizio?" There we go!

It's hard for me not to giggle at that. Clearly, Jack is not really Cora's uncle – it's probably just what her parents want her to call him so that she has an easier time forming a relationship with him. When my parents first passed away, Uncle Cal had wanted me to call Rose Auntie, but she and I both refused. Something tells me, though, that in her imagination anyway, Cora already has a perfectly strong relationship with Jack. It's so cute that she sees Rose as a threat – first love is an adorable thing. I barely know Cora, but her outlook towards life is already making me miss the simple days that existed only a few short years ago. My life has changed so much lately, not just in matters of the heart, but in everything.

"It means," Fabrizio explains, answering her question, "that Jack and Rose are _en amore_!"

Evidently, Cora does not speak a word of Italian (which is probably for the better), so she merely shrugs and turns to me.

"Are you from the first class?" she asks. Although her tone is innocent, her question makes me turn bright red and I squirm in my seat, searching for a response.

"Well," I say slowly, "yes, I am. Rose is, too," I explain. I'm hoping that if Cora can see Jack getting along so well with a first class girl, she'll understand that it's okay to mingle between statuses. I think it's so sad that, at such a tender age, Cora can already see the lines drawn around pay checks and pocketbooks that keep the two of us apart.

Cora nods, and it appears as though my explanation satisfies her, because she moves on with more precocious pleasantries. "This is Tommy Ryan," she says, turning around and pointing at the man who's lap she's sitting on. "He's from Ireland."

Tommy nods and offers his hand to me. As I shake it, he says, "Pleasure, Maddie. Jack speaks pretty highly 'o yer auntie there."

Again, I feel a slight blush creeping up my cheeks. How am I supposed to explain this? I decide that maybe I just shouldn't even bother, and let it rest. She is sort of my aunt, isn't she? "Well, she's pretty great," I say. "Jack seems nice, too."

Tommy and Fabrizio exchange looks, but say nothing to each other. Is there more going on between Jack and Rose than I know? I've thought it a million times over the last two days, and now I'm thinking it again: I really wish Rose would tell me what's going on, especially when it has so much bearing on my life. I don't want to be angry with her, I really don't, but I just wish she'd include me sometimes!

Tommy smiles the most fake smile I've ever seen and says, "Now, forgive me for sayin this if it comes out soundin bad, but Rose doesn't look that much older than you. She's one of your parents' sisters, ain't she?"

Oh, damn. Why is it that every time I want to avoid a subject, it always comes up? Does God want both Rose and I to lose every ounce of dignity we have left?

"Well," I say slowly, trying to find a way to put this into words without killing everything that Rose and Jack have going for them, "not really. She's actually in an arranged engagement with my uncle."

The minute that sentence comes out of my mouth, I feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Why did I say that? How stupid am I? Sure, now they'll be able to figure out that Rose isn't exactly into Uncle Cal, but how long will it be now until practically the entire ship knows the inner details of the personal lives of our entire cabin? I have got to learn to keep my mouth shut.

Again Tommy looks at Fabrizio, and I can't even begin to decipher their expressions. Whatever I said must have meant something big. Now I'm really regretting even coming with Rose on their little adventure. Everybody I've met so far is so nice, but I'm just shooting my mouth off and ruining everything for all of them. I wonder if Jack knows that Rose and Uncle Cal are engaged. If he does, will he pursue her anyways? Oh, God, I've messed this up. I feel like just shrinking away and crawling deep into a hole, never to be seen again. If I don't ever get off this ship, it'll be for the better.

There is an awkward silence between us, and I can feel people's eyes gradually floating back over towards me. When I had been talking to their kind, I had been one of them… it had been okay for me to be here. Now that I am sitting here saying nothing, I am a complete stranger again. An enemy. Unwanted. They have desire for me to be here, making them look worthless. What am I supposed to do; to say, to bring them all back to what they were doing before? Luckily for me, it isn't long before Cora has something else to say.

"Maddie, did you know that we have dancing and stuff down here every night after dinner?" she asks. "I think you should come!"

I'm surprised at how appealing that actually sounds. I am quickly getting the sense that with people like Cora, Tommy and Fabrizio, you can be whoever you want to be. There is no need to keep up images or your family's good name, and you can marry whoever you want to marry. As tempting as the little girl's offer is, I know it's probably impossible.

I shrug and smile sheepishly. "I'd love to come, Cora, but I don't know if I can. I'll have to ask Rose, but I really don't know."

Evidently not put back, Cora keeps her hopes up as she talks. "Well, I think you guys would have fun. Jack's going to be there, you know." I laugh at that. Between Cora and Rose, I'm going to have had enough of that guy's name by the time we dock in New York, and this is just the beginning.

"We'll see, Cora," I say with a laugh. Just as the words come out of my mouth, that awful bell that tells the whole world we're going to eat dinner in an hour rings, and I have to get up at take the journey back into the first class section. I almost don't want to leave- it's so cozy down here, even though there are no carpets or glass detailing or seat cushions, and the people I've met so far are genuinely nice… not like my kind. I don't know why the more money people have, the less they feel like they have to be nice people, but the two variables aren't at all related in my mind.

I say goodbye to Fabrizio and Tommy and obligingly give Cora a hug, then dash up the two flights of stairs onto my deck. I can feel the eyes of the third class passengers on my back, like daggers stabbing me a thousand times over, but in it's not as bad as before. I can't help but wonder that maybe, if Rose ends up with Jack rather than Uncle Cal, I could stay with them. I know it's ridiculous so I don't bother to get my hopes up, but the thought lingers at the back of my brain like a dim light that refuses to go out.

* * *

Back in our cabin, everything is hustle and bustle as always before dinner. Rose and Ruth's maids help them dress, and while Nicole laces my corset for me, I manage to work myself into my own navy blue evening gown. It is impossibly tight and I had no idea how hard it would be to put on, but after five minutes of struggling, I eventually manage. When I finally shake my head through, I see Nicole laughing a bit, but she smiles encouragingly nonetheless. Gazing at myself in the mirror, I feel incredible pride. I know that seems stupid- Cora can probably dress herself- but to me, it is a big deal.

As I stare at my reflection for a moment, I notice how much it has changed over the past few years. My long blonde curls are pinned up on top of my head, just like Rose's always are. I never wore my hair like that before boarding _Titanic_, but I must admit it is quite beautiful. I wear makeup, too, which is strange and foreign feeling on my face, as though my pores cannot breathe. The dress itself is very grown-up looking, as well- a dark, midnight blue colour overlaid in sheer black material with sprays of tiny bronze crystals dancing all over it. In truth I do not look all that different from what I looked like when I was ten or eleven- it's just the way I've been made up. It amazes me how different we can look when we sit in a chair for forty minutes and get all prettied up, when in reality we are merely girls underneath. I am thirteen years old- still a child by most standards, and yet I will probably be engaged to be married in three or four years, much like Rose. We wear this mask that hides who we really are, and we wear it for so long that sometimes we forget what lies underneath it.

"Are you ready, Miss?" Nicole asks as she finishes fastening a necklace around my neck.

"I am," I say. "Thank you so much."

Nicole just smiles at me as I join everyone else. Uncle Cal's manservant, Lovejoy, opens the door for us, and we proceed towards the dining room. I had almost forgotten that Jack will be joining us, but just seeing the look on Rose's faces reminds me. She is absolutely ecstatic! I love seeing her like this, but I'm also wondering what Jack is going to do tonight. I can't help but feel that he's going to be really lost and nervous. I just hope Uncle Cal and Ruth don't do anything to embarrass him too badly.

Rose's smile reaches her eyes as she whispers, "I can't wait to see Jack!" I look around to make sure no one can hear us, but thankfully Uncle Cal has already linked his arm through Ruth's and is walking a good five or ten paces ahead of us. This, by the way, makes no sense to me. Rose is his fiancée after all, not her mother.

Grinning back at her, I reply, "Me, either. What did you two talk about today?" I ask, eager to learn all of the details about their relationship, especially considering the fact that I may have possibly destroyed her life earlier today by letting my stupid mouth get ahead of my brain.

Smiling coyly, Rose says, "I can't quite say just now, thank you very much. I'll tell you when we get back tonight, alright Maddie?"

I nod, anxious to hear her secrets. Soon we reach the grand staircase that leads to the dining hall, down which we walk in a specific order that is bound to make everybody look at us. I hate being watched by these people even more than I hate being watched by the people down in steerage- the first class people are always judging you, you can just tell. Are you wearing the right clothes? Are you with the right people? Are you walking the right way? I just can't stand it.

Uncle Cal and Rose's mother make their way downstairs first, just as I round the corner a few steps behind Rose. I can see Jack waiting at the bottom, and to my surprise he's managed to get his hands on a tuxedo. I have to admit, I'm impressed. He also appears to be talking to himself- practicing, probably. He is just adorable! When Rose reaches the foot of the stairs, Jack takes her hand in his and kisses it. Although I can't see Rose's face, the rise and fall of her shoulders makes me suspect she's absolutely swooning over him.

"I saw that in a Nickelodeon once and I always wanted to try it," he says with a laugh, just as I join them. He turns to me and kisses my hand as well, but it's not the same. He and Rose haven't even known each other a full day, but it appears as though they're already in love. Just the thought makes me nervous, because I've seen what Uncle Cal can do to Rose when he gets angry with her. I hope she knows what she's getting into.

"You look lovely tonight, Maddie," he says, smiling the same warm smile as earlier this afternoon.

"Thank you, Jack. That is very kind." I say politely, just like they teach us to whenever we receive a compliment from a man.

Rose and Jack link arms and make their way into the dining room. Perhaps it doesn't make sense that Uncle Cal is with Ruth, but at least that leaves Rose with Jack. I can't even describe how happy she looks when she's around him. I remember what Rose said to me about the type of men we dream of marrying, and how we never really give up that dream. Jack is every inch that dream man. Hopefully I'll be lucky enough to find a man like him some day. I linked my hand into Rose's free one and she squeezes it, as though to tell me how excited she is.

Jack has obviously never been in a situation like this before, but he's handling himself surprisingly well. As we make our way through all of the wealthy, so-called important people – Madeleine and JJ Astor, Bruce Ismay and the like – Jack's manners are impeccable, and he just pretends he owns a new railway line. The people accept him as he is, especially considering the fact that he has Rose DeWitt Bukater on his arm. He is seen as new money, of course, but money nonetheless. And in our world, money is what matters above all.

After what seems like hours of walking around and saying hello, we sit down with pretty much the same crowd that we sit with at lunch. Just when it seems like Jack is going to fly through the night without a single mistake, Ruth takes it upon herself to ruin the moment.

"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mr. Dawson?" she asks, as though it is a perfectly normal question. I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks- I am utterly embarrassed for him. "I hear they're quite good on this ship."

"The best I've seen, ma'am," he replies confidently. "Hardly any rats."

It is almost impossible for me not to burst out in laughter at that. I am so much younger than everyone else at our table but Rose, and even she is much more mature than I am. It's really hard sometimes to act all grown-up and pretend that things aren't funny, but I do try my best.

As the night goes on, Ruth grills Jack with more pointless and disgustingly embarrassing questions. However, I think he's much more prepared for this than anyone was expecting, and although he picks up his fish fork when the salad is served, Rose glares at him and he quickly makes the switch. He's really handling this as though he's done it a thousand times before, and every time he makes her mother eat her words, Rose's smile grows wider and the sparkle in her eyes grows brighter. None of us are expecting his response, though, when Ruth asks him why he finds his 'rootless existence' so appealing.

"Well," he replies, chewing with his mouth open just to make people angry, "it's a big world, and I want to see it all before I go. My father was always talkin' about goin' to see the ocean. He died in the town he was born in, and he never did see it. You can't wait around, because you never know what hand you're going to get dealt next. My parents died in a fire when I was fifteen, and I've been on the road ever since. Something like that teaches you to take life as it comes at you- to make each day count."

Wow. I have to admit, that's probably the most profound thing I've ever heard, and I'm positive everyone sitting at this table really needs to take it in and evaluate what in the world they're doing with their lives. Money doesn't matter. Status doesn't matter. Who you know or what you were doesn't matter. What matters is living the life you were meant to live. My God, he's amazing. I glance over at Rose, who can't take her eyes of him.

"Well said, Jack," Molly Brown exclaims, raising her glass in salute. Rose repeats the gesture.

"To making it count," she says. We all lift our glasses and echo Rose's words. All eyes are now on the stranger sitting in front of us, and Ruth can't stand it. She continues to grill him about his lifestyle until dinner is over and the men all go off to the Smoking Room to have a brandy. Some important man whose name I forget invites Jack, but he insists that he's got to be going.

Rose seems upset at that revelation, which really isn't a surprise. "Must you go, Jack?" she asks, almost begging him to stay a moment longer. There's something about the way they interact that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside… nothing like Uncle Cal. When he and Rose are together, the air is so tight that it's almost impossible to breathe. Jack is exactly the opposite, and I can tell Rose really likes him.

Jack shrugs and says, "Time to join the rest of the slaves."

He turns to go, but not before kissing Rose's hand again. Her gaze trails him for a moment, but it looks to me more as though she's looking at the ground than Jack. When she turns back around to face us, the expression on her face is one of the oddest I have ever seen. She says nothing, but slips her hand into mine under the table. Suddenly, there is a tiny piece of paper nestled between my fingers. What am I supposed to do? Everyone is still busy talking, so I unfold the scrap on top of my lap.

As I read it, my heart leaps in my chest.


	4. The Pursuit of Happiness

**Thanks everybody for the reviews on the last chapter, especially Chipmunk2010, because she gave me the idea that this whole chapter is based on. Also thanks to He's My Gutter Rat for faithfully reviewing every chapter of this story and Endless Diamond sky... and Lolipop, too. Oh, heck, thanks to EVERYBODY!**

Chapter Four

_We're crashing into the unknown. We're lost in this, but it feels like home._

April 13th, 1912

_Make it count-  
Meet me at the clock_

Jack's writing fits his personality.

Why is it that, with this little piece of paper and all its implications in my hand, that is the first thing that comes to my mind? It strikes me as funny, and it's all I can do not to burst out in laughter. But then that wouldn't be very fitting, would it? Why did Rose give this to me? Does she want me to go with her, wherever it is she's going? Gazing at everyone around us now getting out of their chairs, ready to retreat to their cabins and expecting to me to do the same thing, I think to myself that there is absolutely no way I can do this. And yet, when I finally find the courage to rise from my seat, I walk towards Rose without even thinking about it.

She smiles at me with gratitude and sheer joy, then says, "If it's alright with you, Mother, Madeline and I are going to get a bit of fresh air. We should be back shortly." Just listening to Rose tell her mother such a bold-faced lie makes me feel positively giddy. Until now, I've never disobeyed a serious rule in my life; I was always the good girl, the one who did things just to make adults happy. From what she's shown me so far, I can guess that Rose was the same way. Now, getting on this ship and doing exactly the opposite… I have to admit, it's exciting.

Ruth turns to Rose and gives her the strangest look- the same one she'd made when Rose had been smoking at the table yesterday afternoon. It is as though she thinks everything Rose does will lead her down a path of shame. "It's a bit late, isn't it, dear?" she asks, but her tone makes the last word seem unfitting.

Rose merely shrugs and repeats herself. "We should be back shortly."

From the corner of my eye, I think I see Ruth nod curtly, but I could be wrong because Rose has already grabbed me by the hand and is practically pulling me out the door. We whirl past flashes of brightly coloured feathers, deep velvets and sparkling jewels. As we leave the dining room and walk into the much less exciting lounge area, it reminds me of what Rose and I are doing on a larger scale- that is to say, leaving the opulence and shimmer of our world for a much more drab lifestyle. Some of our folk, like Ruth and Uncle Cal, would find that utterly disgusting, but to me it's like walking out of the dining room full of people who are covered in silk and organza and perfume into the empty lounge- finally, you can breathe again.

Before we walk up the stairs, Rose looks me fiercely in the eye, as though trying to prepare me for what she is about to say. She takes a deep breath and begins. "Maddie…" she says, sounding nervous, "Please don't be angry when I tell you this, and whatever you do, do not tell my mother. I think I'm falling in love with Jack."

For a moment, I am so stunned I can't even think straight. Anyone who had eyes to see could tell that Rose and Jack both had feelings for each other, but who's to say what they had was any more than an innocent little lovechild of their imaginations? I had thought, and still do think, that Rose would be much better off with Jack than Uncle Cal, but I never would have imagined that she would admit she was falling in love with him, especially after knowing him for just one day.

What am I supposed to say? I wrack my mind for a response, but find none. Instead, I just say, "Oh…" Then, remembering, that she asked me not to tell her mother, I add, "Don't worry, I won't."

Rose laughs in spite of herself, but she looks a little bit different- almost frightened. I wonder if she's thinking the same thing I was this afternoon. She is being deceitful, there's no doubt about that, but the real question is whether or not love is enough to justify deceit. In school we learned about Pyramus and Thisbe and Romeo Juliet; two couples that lived centuries apart but were facing the very same dilemma as Rose and Jack. Does love conquer all? And if it does, does that mean that love also justifies all? I guess if we haven't figured it out after a thousand years, we probably never will.

"Well, then," I say, when Rose does not reply, "I guess we should go see what he's up to, shouldn't we?"

Rose nods in agreement and links her arm through mine. We make our way up the staircase, where Jack is waiting at the top. He turns around and smiles at both of us. I'm relieved to see that he doesn't look like he's annoyed by my presence, because there's no way I'm leaving Rose to have all the fun again.

Smirking coyly, Jack offers his hand to Rose and asks, "Wanna got to a real party?"

I feel really bad for doing it, because I know that it isn't proper, especially for someone my age, but I sort of can't help staring at Jack. He's very good looking, and when he smiles you can tell that he's really, genuinely happy, and that makes you happy. As bad as that is though, it's nothing compared to how Rose is acting. She doesn't respond to his question verbally, but the look on her face speaks volumes. She can't take her eyes away from him, and the way she giggles reminds me of girls at school maybe two or three years younger than me. It's really kind of amazing that just twenty-four hours ago, the same love-struck girl standing in front of me was trying to fling herself off the _Titanic_. Clearly Jack has lit some sort of fire inside of her that's forcing her to keep going. She must really be in love with him.

As I watch the pair stare at I each other, I vaguely wonder how long it will be until I find a love like that- a love that I'd risk everything for. If love is really like Jack and Rose are making it out to be, then that day can't come soon enough.

I follow Jack and Rose back down the stairs and down into first the second class area, then steerage. I'm starting to get really curious when Rose says exactly what I'd been thinking.

"Jack, where are you taking us?" she pleads, sounding again like a little girl.

Jack laughs and replies, "I told you already. We're going to a real party!"

Clearly, Jack likes to play with Rose's mind in the same way she likes to play with his, so I decide that it's time I intervene. As exciting as this whole adventure into Jack's world must be for Rose, I still don't want her to get hurt. _And you don't want to get hurt yourself_, that little voice in the back of my head whispers. I squash it instantly, just like a fly on the wall.

"Please, Jack?" I ask, taking a few big steps to catch up with him and Rose. "If you don't tell me where we're going then I'm going to leave, and you wouldn't want to be responsible if I get lost!" As pathetic as that sounds, I'm really not sure if I could find my way back to our cabin from here.

He doesn't have to reply, though, because almost as soon as the words are out of my mouth, a door swings open to reveal a party unlike anything I've ever seen before. At least a hundred people fill a crowded, smoky, humid room. People from all walks of life are here talking, drinking, singing and dancing- mostly dancing. Every corner of the room is full of young couples and small children skipping around to a lively beat, looking happy as clams dressed in rags and packed in here like sardines. The smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke are almost too much too take in, but it's better than being upstairs where everybody smells like flowers and wine and a whole bunch of awful stuff like that.

Jack smiles that smile that Rose so clearly adores and says, "Told you."

Hesitantly, Rose and I follow him into the thick crowd of people. The heat must be getting to him, because he pulls of his bow tie and shoves it into his pocket before he even sits down. I wish I could follow his lead and let my hair down, but it's too full of pins and would just be an awful mess. If I were a third class girl, my hair would probably be hanging down or tied back with a bow… I know I shouldn't be jealous of these people who have nothing, but I can't help it. Something about their life seems so appealing… almost easier.

Jack sits down at a table and Rose and I follow. I recognize Fabrizio and Tommy from earlier today. Cora's here, too, but she's sitting on the lap of a man I don't know. He's probably her father. There's another woman here, too- probably her mother.

"Evening, everyone," Jack says with a smile, slipping out of his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair. "Mr. and Mrs. Cartmell, I don't believe you've met Rose and Madeline," he says, gesturing to us. "Rose is a friend of mine, and Maddie is her sister."

Her sister? The logical thing to think would be that Jack had merely forgotten our relationship because I'm not that much younger, but I get the feeling he just didn't want to remind either one of us of our connection with Caledon Hockley. He's only known us for a day, and he already knows that we'd rather forget that my uncle even exists. Rose still hasn't told me exactly what they talked about this afternoon, and I really wish I knew.

Rose must notice Jack's slip, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she smiles at Cora's parents and shakes their hands. "Rose DeWitt Bukater. It's very nice to meet you."

The couple offer their hands to me, and I smile politely and say, "Madeline DeWitt Bukater, but you can call me Maddie." It's funny how easily that name slips out of my mouth, and it makes me think about what my life would be like if I really was Rose's sister. The thing is though, I'd be in the exact same place I am now- on board the _RMS Titanic,_ watching her run away from a life she hates and wishing so badly that I had an outlet to do the same.

Mrs. Cartmell smiles at me and says, "Cora was telling me all about you at dinner tonight. She said that you and your sister came down to visit Jack from the first class. What brought that about?"

The tone of judgement in her voice makes me cringe. Why is it that poorer people always looks at Rose and I like we're the enemy? I know they aren't treated fairly by our folk, and it makes me feel awful, but it isn't my fault! Evidently Cora had a lot to say about me, and I can't imagine any of it is negative, so why does her mother have to scrutinize me like an insect? Although it's evident that Mrs. Cartmell is much more kind and gentle than Ruth, the look she gives me bears a striking similarity to the one Ruth likes to reserve for Jack. People in this world have to learn to accept people even if they're different! Why is it that no matter where we are, we look at everybody else as a threat to our happiness, when in reality we'd all rather just go about our lives?

I glance over my shoulder to see that Rose is talking to some men Jack must know. Cora has slipped off of her father's lap and is now dancing with Jack. She's standing on top of his feet and it's probably the most adorable thing I've seen in my life. Confident that no one is listening to me, I turn back around to speak to the Cartmells.

"Rose was looking over the edge of the ship to see the propeller last night," I explain, reciting the careful rehearsed lie that I myself detest, "and she almost fell overboard. Jack saved her, and she wanted to come down here and say thank you. I thought they might want to be left alone, so I stayed down here with Cora and Tommy and Fabrizio while they went up on deck. She's a cute little girl," I add with a smile, hoping they'll notice that I'm talking about her as an equal.

Mr. Cartmell smiles proudly. "That she is," he says. He turns around to watch his little girl dancing with Jack, and I do the same. I have to laugh at myself- in a way, I feel like I sort of get cheated in this whole Jack situation. Rose is old enough and beautiful enough to really get to love him and have him love her back, and Cora is young enough and cute enough for him to dote on her and let her dance with him. Being thirteen isn't always fun.

The song ends and a few people sit down to rest as the Irish band begins another one. Fabrizio gets up from his seat and takes the waist of a blonde woman who must be Swedish or something. Jack kneels down to get on Cora's level and, shouting above the music, points at Rose and tells her, "I'm gonna dance with her, now okay?"

Cora nods obligingly, but she walks away sighing heavily and stands in front of her parents, staring at Jack with a look of resentment. He mustn't notice, because he extends his hand to Rose and smiles.

"C'mon, it'll be fun."

Rose squirms in her seat a bit, and I can guess how she must be feeling- awkward and uncomfortable because she isn't used to any of this. Then again, Jack must have felt the same way two hours ago. "Jack, I couldn't possibly-" she stammers, but he pulls her onto her feet, cutting her off midway.

I watch as he puts his hand on her waist. She tries to protest, but her efforts might have been more effective if she was able to talk herself out of it first of all.

"We're gonna need to get a bit closer," he explains, and a faint blush creeps up Rose's cheeks. She continues protesting loudly, but before long she and Jack and dancing around in circles just like everybody else. He must notice Cora's death stare, because he turns to her and says, "Don't worry, Cora. You're still my best girl." That seems to appease her, because she smiles and walks off to find someone to talk to.

Mr. and Mrs. Cartmell get up and join everybody on the dance floor, leaving me alone. I wish I had somebody my own age to dance with, just for fun. I've been taking ballet and ballroom dancing lessons since I was six, but I've never danced like this before. It looks like so much fun- you don't have to worry about having good posture or holding your head high or being anybody but yourself. To me, that's what dancing should be.

Considerably bored, I rise from the table to see if I can find a glass of water. Whiskey and beer is everywhere, and if that was what I wanted all I would have to do was walk up to somebody and ask. Unfortunately, water seems to be a little bit less plentiful around here. There must a bar somewhere where everybody's getting their drinks. I finally spot a thick, beefy man behind standing in front of a wall covered in alcohol. I try to squeeze my way through the crowds of dancing people without tripping over someone. My eyes are focused solely on the bar, and I don't notice the boy right in front of me until it's too late.

Suddenly, my hair is dripping with alcohol and I'm laying on the ground, the train of my dress caught in the shoes of a guy about my age. The two glasses he was carrying have smashed into little shards and are spread all across the floor, along with their contents. Thankfully I don't have any pieces of glass sticking in me, and the boy on the floor next to me appears to be okay as well. He's even more soaked then I am, but he's laughing so hard that his smile is reaching his bright green eyes.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss," he says, helping me up from the ground. Then, nodding at my dress, he adds, "I hope it ain't ruined."

I stare down at my deep, ocean blue evening gown and for the first time realize how out of place I must look. All of a sudden, I feel awkward, and strangely as though I'd rather be any place but here. All this time people have probably been staring at me and scrutinizing me, wondering why in the world I'm here… just like down on the steerage deck this afternoon. God, I must look ridiculous, but I've been too busy paying attention to Jack and Rose and everybody else to even notice. I glance back up at the boy in front of me, who's still smiling sheepishly.

"It's fine," I say, shaking his hand. He has brown hair that's a little bit shorter than Jack's, and his eyes sparkle. I think he's Irish. My dad was Irish, and my mum always said that Irish boys were the best. Maybe she was right. "My name is Madeline DeWitt Bukater, by the way. You can call me Maddie."

It amazes me how easily that lie slips out of my mouth, just the same as the story about the propellers. It is much easier for me to lie to these people, although I don't really know why. It's as though down here, were everyone is happy just to enjoy each other's company, you can carve a whole new identity for yourself. I almost feel bad, because there's no reason not to tell the truth other than to avoiding the subject of my uncle.

"Lovely to meet you, Maddie," he replies. Yes, definitely Irish. "I'm Aiden. Aiden Kelly. And I am really sorry, Maddie. Look, it's all in yer hair 'n everything!"

Aiden shoves his hand into the sleeve of his shirt and attempts to sop up the whiskey that's dripping from my now very messy updo. As he pulls his hand away, he accidentally brushes it against my cheek, and I feel a strange sensation running up and down my spine… strange, but good. Really good. My face feels a bit warm, and I really hope I'm not blushing.

"Don't worry about it," I say. It comes out much more embarrassed than it sounded in my head, which makes me even more embarrassed. I really badly want to pull my eyes away from Aiden's because I'm pretty sure I'm staring at him, but I can't. I have never seen eyes quite like his before.

Aiden smiles. "If you say so," he replies. For a moment neither of us says anything, and I just stand there awkwardly, listening to the overpowering beat of the drums that fills the silence between us. I'm trying really hard to think of something to say but I just can't. I'm completely enthralled with this boy… I can't tear my eyes away from his adorably messy hair, his freckled face and completely infectious smile. I've never really felt like that before… like I could just sit here staring at one person all day and I'd be totally fine.

Ending the silence and my total embarrassment, Aiden says, "Maddie, do you want to dance?"

Somewhere buried deep in the back of mind between the cotillion lessons and the order in which you're supposed to use your utensils is the proper response to that question, but I'm too brain dead to even bother fishing for it. The only thing that somehow manages to find its way out of my mouth is a very timid "Sure."

Very softly, Aiden laces his fingers through mine and leads me out onto the makeshift dance floor. A tiny, fluttering creatures floats up from my stomach and into my chest as he puts his hand around my waist and pulls me closer to him. No boy has ever laid his hands on me in any way before, aside from my father kissing me on the head when I was little, and I never would have imagined it felt the way it does. In a way I know I'm being pretty stupid, because I've spoken less than fifty words to this guy, but at this same time, his hand on my waist feels so natural. Before long we're dancing in circles around the room, just like everybody else. I start to get dizzy after a while, but I'm having way too much fun to even consider stopping. Aiden throws his head back in laughter as we spin each other around, propelling ourselves with our feet, and I do the same. Dancing like this makes me feel free for the first time in my life.

As we spin our way all across the room, I spot Rose and Jack doing exactly the same thing. Rose's eyes meet mine, and she shoots me a like that seems to say, '_What in the world are doing with that that boy? _It doesn't come across in a bad way, though, like it would if it were Uncle Cal. She looks to be pretty interested and maybe a bit excited about this stranger with his hand around my waist, if not a bit protective, and I know she's going to want me to tell her everything when we get back to our cabin.

Eventually, Aiden and I unknowingly dance ourselves into a table, knocking over somebody's drinks. Laughing so hard we can't breathe, we apologize profusely to the very drunk men at the table and then lean up against the wall, gasping for air. I've never moved that fast or had so much fun or felt so very exhilarated in my entire life. I rest my head against the support of the wall and turn around just in time to catch Aiden's eye. He looks at me for minute, and I feel like he's seeing a part of me no one's ever seen before… a part of me I didn't even know existed. Much to my surprise, a thought creeps up from the back of my mind to the front, and I realize that, in the exact position we are right now, he could just lean over and kiss me.

I let out a small chuckle in spite of myself. That's so stupid. I haven't even known this boy for half an hour- I don't know anything about him besides his name, and I certainly don't know him well enough to let him kiss me. And on top of that, I'm probably never going to see him again. That harsh, cold reality hits me like a ton of bricks, and I have to tear my gaze away from him.

There's a raised platform in the middle of the stage, and right now Jack and Rose are holding onto each other's hands and spinning around wildly. Hey, they fell in love after a day- why did they have to be the only ones it worked out for? I mean, I know I'm too young to be really in love like they are, but that doesn't mean that I can't make this thing- this crazy, random, brand new and impossible thing- work out.

Soon, Jack and Rose, along with Fabrizio and the blonde woman he was dancing with, jump down from the platform and form what could only be described as an Irish step dancing version of a conga line. Rose grabs onto Fabri's hand, and of course Jack follows her.

"Maddie!" she shouts over the noise. "C'mon, join us!"

I look at Aiden and he nods enthusiastically, grabbing onto my hand. I bolt ahead and wrap my free hand around Jack's. A bunch of people follow us, and we dance around the room like this for the better part of ten minutes. During the rare moment that I'm not focused entirely on Aiden, my gaze shifts over to Rose. She's completely enchanted by Jack, and the joy and wonder that's painted on her face as clear as day is a reflection of the way I'm feeling right now. Like for the first time, I'm really alive.

It's nearly midnight by the time Rose announces that we really should be getting back to our cabin. I say goodbye to Aiden, albeit a bit regretfully, and I promise him that I'll find a way to see him tomorrow. He walks with us to the door, still holding onto my hand. I stand in the doorway awkwardly for a moment, thinking of a way to cement the way he's made me feel without being too awkward.

I expect he's thinking that same thing, because he pulls me into a gentle hug and says, "Well, see you in the mornin' then, Maddie." We barely touch, but it is enough to make the fluttering creature inside me resurrect itself and soar back up into my heart. I nod, then follow Jack and Rose outside.

Up on the first class deck, I walk a few paces behind the couple, who are drunkenly singing that one song about the flying machine and getting the words horribly wrong. All of a sudden, Rose stops and stares up at the sky. I follow her, and I am amazed by what I see. Not only is there an almost endless expanse of brilliant, glowing stars filling the charcoal night, but there's a shooting star racing right over our heads.

As though she could read my mind, Rose exclaims, "Look! A shooting star! Aren't we supposed to wish on it?"

Jack rests his hand on top of hers, and I hear him say, "My pop used to tell me that a shooting star was a soul goin to Heaven."

"That's beautiful," Rose replies. She glances back up at the shining night sky, and I wonder if she's seeing the same thing I am- each star as a hope, a dream and a blessing that is waiting for me if I only had the chance to break free from the holds of my society. More than ever before, I feel like I need to escape from the world my uncle's throwing me into if I have any hope of surviving out there.

Jack looks into Rose's eyes and sounds very much in love as he whispers, "What did you wish for?"

Rose pauses briefly, as though searching for the right words. "Something I can't have."

But then that's the harsh reality of it, isn't it? As Rose and I bid goodbye to Jack and step into the first class entrance, I think I can feel my heart breaking inside of me. When the ship docks, I'll never see Aiden again and Rose will probably never see Jack. Not only that, neither one of us is going to find a way to break out of the chains we've been shackled into because that's just not the way the world works. How is it that just when everything is going perfectly, a realization dawns upon you that crushes everything you've spent the whole time dreaming up?

I don't know the answer to that question, but I do know that I don't care what happens- I'm going to find every way possible to defy it, because now it's about more than Rose's happiness. It's about mine as well, and even if I'll never be able to reach that happiness, I have to keep trying.


	5. The Sound of Silence

**AN: So I'm sorry for being a fail updater and I'm not going to bother explaining my failness besides saying that if you ever get the chance NOT to take geography in high school, TAKE IT! Take it and run with it, as far away from the social science room as possible!**

**Also, depending on what type of person you are, you are probably going to think that either Rose comes off as weak and cold in this chapter, or that Maddie comes off as cruel, heartless and hopelessly naïve. It doesn't matter to me which you think, because they're both sort of true. I try really hard to make characters imperfect, so I'd be glad if you felt that way (and you told me about it in a review… hint hint!)**

**Oh, and just a quick little thought here. Who's ever seen The NeverEnding Story? You know the part where the Childlike Empress is asking Bastien to give her a name, and after the world sort of dies, she's kind of shaking and whimpering, but not really crying? That's how I pictured Rose when she's talking to Maddie in this chapter. So you can do that, too, if it helps. **

**Also- mental image of Aiden: Freddie Highmore in August Rush. But whatever works for you works for me.**

Chapter Five

_Life is short but this time it was bigger than the strength she had to get up off her knees._

April 14th, 1912

When I first open my eyes, I don't quite remember where I am. There is an unusual calm wrapped around me- like a sort of emotion that I'm feeling for the first time, only I don't quite remember what it is. As the sun pours in my window and warms my face, I wrack my brain for a clue as to my strange feelings. Something from the deep and intricate webs of sleep is pushing itself to the forefront of my mind… something about a dream. But I didn't dream last night, or at least I don't remember it.

That's it! Last night was the first time since my parents died that I slept peacefully- undisturbed by frightening visions of a strange fever plaguing them, ripping at the threads of their very existence not knowing whether I was next to fall ill or if I would survive; just that either way I was going to die, just perhaps not in the physical sense. Instead, as I rub my eyes and climb out of bed, I think of what happened last night before I went to sleep- about Cora and Tommy and Fabrizio and about dancing and getting whiskey spilled all over my hair, and about Jack and Rose and how much they really must love each other, but mostly I think about Aiden.

Part of me feels as though he wasn't even really real- like he was just a person who is bound to dance out of my life as quickly as he danced into it. All of last night feels like one huge illusion, in a good way and a bad way… good, because it was just so magical and wonderful, but at the same time I can't escape the sinking feeling that I'm never going to feel that good again. I have to find a way to see Aiden again, and today. Uncle Cal will probably know soon enough where Rose and I were last night, and if I can find a way to get out of here before I really have to talk to him, then I'll do it.

As I start making the bed, which most people probably leave to their maids but I like to do myself because it's fairly simple, Nicole comes into my room to help me get dressed. We have to go to church this morning, it being a Sunday, which means we have to long-sleeved dresses in darker colours. I hate dresses that aren't bright and cheery, but at least with evening gowns there's a little bit of sparkle. I think church clothes are utterly awful.

"Would you like some help with your dress this morning, Miss Hockley?" Nicole asks as she laces my corset. The heavy velvet dresses we wear to church are much more difficult to get into than evening gowns or other dresses. To be honest, sometimes I wish they made pants for girls, kind of like the ones men wear. According to Rose, the American suffragettes wore pants years before she was born. It would sure make getting dressed a lot easier!

"I would, Nicole," I reply, slipping into the skirt. "Thank you so much."

As Nicole pulls each string of lace tighter around my chest and stomach, she says, "It's no problem, Miss. Oh, and Miss Hockley?" she adds, as though a thought suddenly occurred to her, "I was speaking with Mr. Hockley a little bit earlier, and I must tell you, he's not very happy with yourself and Miss DeWitt Bukater. Now, I don't know much what you two did, and I'm sure it wasn't all too bad, but your uncle seemed quite angry, Miss Hockley. I think you and Rose should apologize to him, Miss- just so that he doesn't do any damage." She finishes lacing up my dress then grabs my by the shoulders and turns me around to face her.

"You and I both know how he can be."

I have known Nicole since I was six years old. Before my parents died she was our housekeeper, and although Uncle Cal offered to get me someone trained as a personal maid- a "better one," he had said- but I begged him for weeks to allow Nicole to stay with me and finally, he consented. I told him how unfair it was for her to have to lose such a well-paying job, but really I couldn't stand to lose the only person in the world I really knew. Nicole has always taken care of me and looked out for me, and I knew now that no matter how insignificant what Rose and I had done last night was, it had made him beyond angry. As if I didn't know it before, I realize it now- I have to go down to the third class and spend as long as I can there right after mass.

"I understand, Nicole," I said, smiling softly. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, Miss Hockley. Now, you must go wash up before breakfast."

As I go through the little daily things I do each morning- brushing my teeth, washing my face, sitting down as Nicole pins my hair up in a little flower clip - I can't help but think about Aiden and how long it is until I can see him again. Somehow I'm going to have to find a way to see him as much as possible for the next three days, because God knows if I'll ever see him again after that.

I wonder if Uncle Cal will be even more angry with me for being gone today, but at this point I really don't care. Maybe Rose will down with me, and then she can spend some more time with Jack. I'm sure she'd like that, and I bet she's just as eager to escape Uncle Cal's wrath as I am. On the way to breakfast, I knock on the door to Rose's stateroom. The sound of angry shuffling fills the silence on the other side of the wall, and I am surprised when the door is opened by Ruth rather than her daughter.

"Good morning, Madeline," she says, sounding tired and upset. To me, that's a surprise because Ruth always seems so in control of her own life- so emotionless. I wonder what in the world could have made her so upset. It couldn't possibly have been last night, could it? Could Ruth really be that desperate to have Rose marry Cal? Why does it matter to her anyway, when they have so much of their own money? It's kind of funny- sometimes I feel so mature and grown up, mostly when I'm around Jack and Rose, because they don't keep all too much secret from me. Other times, though, like now, I feel like a little five-year-old who knows absolutely nothing about anything.

"And to you, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater," I replied with a sweet smile. One has to tread lightly with Ruth even on a good day, and today is not one of those days. "Excuse me, but it Rose in her room?"

Ruth nods curtly, brushing past me without a word. I'll take that as a yes. Inside, Rose is sitting on her bed, looking positively forlorn. Her long red curls are still tied together with a white ribbon that she would have slept in, and she's sitting in her corset and underskirt and nothing else. Visibly shaken from whatever verbal beating her mother has just laid on her, something in Rose's laboured breathing tells me she's holding back tears. Perhaps now is not the best time to ask her such a huge favour, but I do it anyways.

"Rose?" I whisper, almost afraid to move any closer. "Are… are you okay?"

Silence… it has a sound, you know. It's like a giant redwood smashing down to the ground in deserted forest- just because no can hear it, doesn't mean it doesn't make noise. Before boarding the _Titanic_, I never understood what people meant by the question, 'If a tree falls in a forest and no one can hear it, does it make a sound?' The whole point is that just because we don't always see the things that are going on outside of our happy, private existences, it doesn't mean that somewhere, someone's world isn't crashing around them.

"I'm fine," she says curtly, after a long, loud silence. The fact that she won't raise her eyes to meet mine, however, tells a different story. I don't know what she's about to do- she could start crying or screaming or ripping apart the bed sheets at any moment. In a way I almost want to leave so that I don't have to look at her like this- like something inside of her has been ripped away and I can't even think of what it is. Instead of skirting the issue and talking about emotions, I just jump right to the question.

Smiling brightly and hoping it doesn't look too fake, I ask, "Rose, I was just wondering… after mass this morning, do you want to come down to the third class with me? Remember that boy from last night? Well, I think I'm going to go down and visit him, and I thought maybe you'd like to see Jack again. I mean, I had a lot of fun last night, and I think you did too. And then, after what you told me after dinner-"

"Maddie, I can't."

I hadn't realized I was babbling until now, and that realization alone stops me for a moment from listening to what Rose said. She can't. That's what she said. It takes me a long minute to process that… just last night she was sneaking off into the steerage area and laughing like a school girl and now she's saying she can't go back there, not even for an hour or two. I remember Ruth's face - upset, hurt, angry – and I wonder if it had anything to do with this. Did Rose's mother find out where we were last night? Has she forbidden Rose from going back? That's just not fair! She has her own life to do whatever she wants with- let Rose live hers!

"What?" I ask, not even trying to hide the shock in my voice. "Why not?"

Rose does not look up at me. She stares down at her hands clasped together in her laps, taking in a deep breath to settle her shaking frame. There is something strange radiating about her – a sort of lacklustre; a quality of nonchalance that I've never seen in her before. Everything about Rose – her hair, her skin, her eyes, her smile, her personality – tends to shine like a light even in the darkest depths of the prison Uncle Cal has her locked in. Now, though, that sparkle has completely gone out. She looks pale and shaken, as though someone has torn the life force from inside of her and left her with nothing but an empty corpse.

"You and I both know that allowing myself to get close to Jack was foolish," she says. I don't even recognize her voice- it sounds more like her mother's than anything. "I have to marry your uncle, Madeline."

She stands up and rests a cold, shivery palm on my cheek. I notice that she is hardly any taller than I; perhaps an inch or two. Her eyes are misted over with a glistening sheen of unshed tears, and something in her face portrays a sense of absolute desperateness. She wants me to help her. Whether it's to find a way to see Jack again or to manage living with my uncle, she wants me to help her. But how can I help someone who gives in so easily? I still can't escape the image of her wrists covered in scars- I remember it every minute of every day. Doesn't she?

So quietly that you could hear a pin drop, Rose whispers, "Isn't that what you want, Maddie? For me not to leave you? Isn't that what you want?"

_No!_ I want to shout._ No, that's not what I want! Are you kidding me? I want to get off this boat with you and Jack and Aiden and for us to run away together and never see Uncle Cal again!_

But then, how stupid is that? How impossible is that? I don't know what to think anymore, or what do. All I know is that I have to get as far away from this whole thing as possibly. Without a word, I back up slowly until I am out of Rose's grasp. Then I bolt out the door, down the hall and as far as I can go as fast as my legs will carry me. Part of me wishes that Rose could just be happy with Cal so that neither one of us would have to suffer so much. Another part just wants to be with Rose and Jack and forget about all of the rules of society and what can and can't be. But the blackest, ugliest part of my heart just wishes I had never met Rose. It wishes I could be back at home with my parents in England, never really knowing Uncle Cal and never having been pulled into this spiral of love and hate between him, Rose and Jack. Life is so much easier when you've got absolutely nothing to worry about, and no one to really care about.

When I get outside, the warm sunshine and the cool breeze hit me like a ton of bricks and I instantly remember being four years old and my father pushing me on a swing he'd made and tied to a tree branch in our yard. That winter an American couple made the first teddy bears and sold them in America. My father had ordered one mailed to our house for my birthday, and it was my birthday present from him and Mum that year. Every day in the summer, he would push me on the swing for hours until supper, and after that I would fall asleep in what I had then imagined was the most comfortable bed in the entire world, holding onto that teddy bear. That was a time in my life when I didn't even know that suffering existed, never mind that it could be found among first class people like us. I long to still live in that four-year-old mentality.

The steerage area is just as it was yesterday- close, dry, and smelling acutely of alcohol and cigarettes. It isn't until now that I realize I'm crying. I'm sure people are staring at me but at this point I don't really care. I don't even know what's come over me- why am I here again? Why am I crying?

From the clouds of my vision I spot two familiar figures- Tommy and Fabrizio. Just seeing them makes me start to bawl all over again, although I've no idea why. I start to remember now why I'm here, and somehow, although I feel like collapsing into a ball on the floor, I managed to make my ways over towards them.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't Madeline DeWitt Bukater," Tommy says, evidently having caught on to Jack's little white lie last night. "What's the matter, Maddie?"

I wipe away the tears from my eyes and ignore his question. I don't really have time for pleasantries right now. Instead, I ask the first thing that came to my mind and the last thing I expected to say. "Where's Jack?"

Tommy and Fabrizio look at each other, then at me. Their eyes run from my head to my toes and back again, as though evaluating whether or not I am worthy of some deep, dark secret about the ultimate fate of the universe.

"I do believe," Tommy says, sitting down and gesturing for me to do the same, "that he's gone off ter find Rose."

"Jack will 'a not stop until he has _la bella Rosa_ in his arms," Fabrizio explains. Normally I would have laughed, but I can't help but feel heartbroken for Jack. If only he knew how Rose had turned his back on him. If only there was a way for me to save him from the world of hurt he was walking into.

I nod and go on, as though I'd never even asked.

"Do you two happen to know a boy named Aiden Kelly?" I ask, dabbing at my eyes with my sleeves. "He's about my age, and he's Irish like you, Tommy."

At first, both the men look utterly confused, probably in part because I just completely flipped the subject around. Fabri raises a quizzical eyebrow at me, but it appears that Tommy is willing to ignore the jump in conversation once he figures out who I'm talking about.

A broad smile spread across his face as he says, "Ah, you mean the lad you was dancin' with last night, right there, Maddie? Well, it just so happens him and his ma and da are stayin' right 'cross the hall from me. E57. Wan me ter show ya?"

Oh Lord, I don't even know how to get to E deck! Coming down here was probably the dumbest decision of my life. Why couldn't I just be like other girls, content to follow orders and play along with the joke of a life we're supposed to live? Help finding Aiden's room would be wonderful, but I can't accept Tommy's offer. I have to do this on my own and for myself.

"That's alright, Tommy," I reply, still sniffling. "I think I can manage. Thank you so much. Both of you."

Still smiling brightly, as though there were no trouble in the world whatsoever, Tommy kneels down in front of me and says, "I dunno what in the hell yer thankin' me for, but yer welcome, Maddie." Much to my surprise, he wraps his arms around me in a warm hug, and I am reminded why I like these people so much. They don't care who you are or what you look like or why you're dressed to the nines at eleven in the morning, balling your eyes out and looking for some kid you met last night- they love everybody just the same.

Fabrizio hugs me as well and then ushers me away, as though I have some sort of important business to attend to that he doesn't want me to miss. "_Buona fortuna_!" he calls as I start down the staircase that claims to lead towards E deck. Fabri is adorable- how he gets so excited over the smallest things. Why can't everybody be like him? Why is the world so cynical nowadays? What's so hard about being happy?

Then again, why can't I be happy?

Somewhere in the labyrinth that is the steerage quarters, I manage to find E57. As I raise my hand to knock on the door, so many thoughts are swirling around my head. Do I really want to do this? Should I maybe just be like Rose and consent to do what's easiest for all involved? The truth is that even if I wanted to, I don't think I could. It's not even so much about Aiden – the grown-up half of me knows that these things will come and go for a long time – but it's about the idea of freedom. Of being whatever I want to be and doing whatever I want to do, regardless of what anybody else thinks. I guess I thought Rose was with me on that, but it doesn't really matter. I can manage just fine on my own.

The door opens in one quick, deliberate motion, and it feels as though an old scar has been torn away. When I see Aiden's face, all of my emotions come rushing back to the surface. For a moment, words refuse to form on my tongue and it's like I'm a mute or something. Like Helen Keller. We learned about her in school. In the life she had been given, Helen couldn't speak, but she had this teacher who taught her Braille, and how to talk with her hands so that she could have a full and prosperous life. Why in the world am I thinking that? What's wrong with me?

Without a word, Aiden takes my hand and all of a sudden everything comes back to me- the words I want to say, and the tears.

"Will you come outside with me?" I ask, my voice no louder than a whisper.

Still silent, Aiden wipes the tears from my cheeks and nods. I lead him by the hand back into the sunshine of the first class deck. Thankfully, the deck is almost deserted because everybody's in mass right now. I'm surprised to notice that the air seems cooler- a lot more so than yesterday afternoon. It feels a little bit like it was late last night when Rose and I returned to our staterooms. Still afraid to speak, I lean against the railing and try to gather my composure. What am I supposed to say? I could just pretend to be here to say hi and make conversation, which was my original plan. But surely Aiden will want to know why I'm crying, and I need to have some sort of answer.

"What's wrong, Maddie?" he asks, his thick Irish accent making that little being inside my stomach flutter up to my chest again.

There's something calming about the sea. Just looking at it feels me with awe; knowing that it can be so dangerous and vengeful and yet it has chosen to bless us with such serene beauty. It makes you feel like the world will always be okay. It's that thought that gives me the courage to let out the sob that's been building in my chest for what feels like hours.

"Everybody I care about in the whole world is just leaving me alone, one by one."

With that, everything comes pouring out and before long my face is soaked and swollen. The words come out of my mouth before I even know that's what I'm feeling, and they surprise me, mostly because they're so true. I've never really admitted it to anyone, even myself, but I still harbour a sense of anger towards my parents for leaving me all alone with my uncle. How dare they? Now it feels as though Rose, too, the only person who really understands me right now, it doing the same thing as my parents. I just can't stand feeling alone anymore.

Aiden looks confused. "What about your sister and her… boyfriend?" he asks, as though searching for the right word to describe Jack. It doesn't come as much of a surprise. To anyone there last night, that's what he would have appeared to be.

I scoff and roll my eyes, realizing just how dumb Rose and I were to get ourselves into this situation in the first place. "Rose isn't my sister and Jack isn't her boyfriend. She's getting married to my uncle in May. Jack is her… her lover."

That's probably not accurate at all, but it's the only word I know to express his role in her life. It makes Rose seem like she's doing something wrong, though, and I don't like it. But then again, she is.

"We were telling people she's my sister because we both hate my uncle and we just like to pretend he doesn't exist. But last night I really thought me and her were going to try and… oh, I don't know… get away from him somehow. This morning she told me that she wouldn't come down with me to see you and Jack, because she has to marry my uncle. She thinks…" My voice catches in my throat as I admit it out loud, because it kills me to think I've left Rose with such an impression. It kills me to think that I might have anything at all to do with this- that it is in any way my fault. "She thinks that's what I want. So that she can be with me and I won't have to be alone…"

My voice trails off towards the end of my speech and dissolves into sobs. I did this to her! Somewhere along the line I let her think that I didn't care how she felt as long as I wasn't alone. Earlier I thought it might have been Ruth's fault but I can't tell myself that anymore. I need to go back to Rose and tell her that whatever I did I take it back and that she should be with Jack and that I'll be okay.

Aiden wraps his arms around me and I feel a strange sense of calm that I've never felt before. It's as though I'm naked in front of a crowd and completely comfortable with it. His hands are warm as he runs them through my hair and gently touches the nape of my neck.

"Shh, Maddie," he whispers. "It's okay. It's not yer fault." Gently, he lifts my chin up with two fingers and stares into my eyes for a long time. His eyes are beautiful –such a striking green colour that I've never seen before, and so full of love and happiness and caring and everything that's good in the world. They make me forget about my pain and everything else in the world around me, which is why I don't notice until he's already pulled away that he kissed me.

Just like that. It was short- short enough for me not to even notice – but nice. It sort of filled me with this warm, fuzzy feeling that I don't recognize. My first thought is that Rose will probably be really excited when I tell her, but then I remember that I don't know when I'm going to get that chance. My body threatens to give in to the sobs again, but I don't let it. I have to be stronger.

"It really is going to be okay, Maddie," he says. This time around, I can tell it's a promise. His voice has a much lighter tone to it as he says, "Oh, lookit what you've done now, Maddie. My shirt's all soaked through!"

And all of a sudden the world is beautiful again.

I laugh out loud. "Well, Mr. Kelly, that's payback for the whiskey! My maid Nicole says it'll probably never come out, so I hope you're happy," I remark jokingly.

Aiden chuckles and grabs my hand. "C'mon, Maddie," he says. "Let's go for a walk."

We spend the next couple of hours doing whatever we please. We venture in and out of both the third and first class areas, saying hi to everyone we know and even some people we don't. At one point we run into Cora, who asks me if I've seen Jack. I can't help but giggle as I tell that no, I haven't seen him, which confuses Aiden immensely. Once Cora's out of earshot, I tell him all about Cora's fantasies and about how I saw her in Southampton and thought she was lucky but then I changed my mind. Aiden explains to me that he met Cora and her parents yesterday and how they were really nice people.

"All third class people are nice," I say, knowing it's a horrible generalization, but it's proved true so far.

Aiden rolls his eyes and scoffs. "Well then I'm guessin' you've never met me sister. She's nine years old and she's an eejit if there ever was one!

"Eejit?" I repeat, feeling kind of stupid. It's probably an Irish slang term or something, but still. I don't like being out of the loop, especially when it comes to words, because I'm generally pretty good with them.

Laughing, Aiden replies, "It means she doesn't know anything at all."

Thought so.

For the rest of the afternoon, Aiden and I tell each other stories about our family. He tells me about his granddad, who was living with him for as long as he can remember and died last year. That kind of makes me feel like there's someone else out there who understands what I'm going through, even if he still has his whole immediate family. We both have a whole in our lives where someone we love used to be. Aiden was surprised to learn about Rose's arranged marriage to Cal and declared that it was decidedly unfair. I can't help but laugh at that- his making it sound so simple. I remember feeling like that just a few days ago. In fact, maybe that's what makes it so funny.

When the sun begins to set, Aiden walks me back to first class entrance and hugs me goodbye, then makes me promise to visit him again tomorrow. I'm about to suggest that he visit me, until I remember that he can't. I opt not say it, which leaves an awkward silence hanging between us.

"Well, see you then, I guess," I say quietly, waving as he walks away.

Before I go inside, I sigh and stare up at the clouds, which are painted the most beautiful shades of peach and pink and cherry red. Just as I'm about to slip through the doorway, something at the bow of the boat catches my eye. It looks from here like there's two crazy people standing on the railing with their arms stretched out, as though they're trying to feel the brilliant colors of the sunset. I can't help but notice that the girl's flaming red hair is exactly the same colour as Rose's. But then, that would never be her. I swear to God, those people would fall off the edge the moment a slight wind picks up. Rose would never do something that crazy, especially after her recent scare with that very same railing.

I hadn't noticed how cold the air was outside until I'm back in my stateroom. This blissful warmth doesn't last long, however, because as soon I've closed the door behind me, Uncle Cal is standing inches away from me, looking more angry than I've ever seen him before.

"You whore!" he growls. I can feel all of the colour drain from my face. "Where is Rose?"

Suddenly, I can't remember anything that's happened today up until this point. I don't know what to say- I'm scared to lie and scared to tell the truth. What's gotten into him?

"I… I don't know," I stammer. Like he'd ever believe me.

"Liar!" he yells, grabbing me by the wrist and forcing me down onto the couch. "You two were off doing God knows what last night down in steerage, and then you have the audacity to leave this morning before anyone even knows you're gone. What are you two up to?"

I say nothing. I can't speak; I can't even think. Tears well up behind my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. Somehow Rose has managed to get away from his claws and even if I knew where she was, I wouldn't tell him. In the back of my mind I feel bad for ever doubting her, but I can't really let that in because I'm too angry and upset and determined not to let Uncle Cal win. He obviously hasn't broken Rose, and he's not going to break me any time soon, either.

His breath smells of alcohol and I can see the glistening beads of sweat on his face as he leans in close to me.

"Tell me where Rose is now!"

I don't speak. I refuse to. I don't care what he does to me at this point- I'm sick and tired of him running my life and keeping me shut up in his sick and demented prison. Still, nothing prepares me for what he does next.

I can see his hand coming down towards my face for what feels like a really long time before it makes contact with my cheek. The sting is something close to the worst pain I'd ever felt. I never would have imagined Uncle Cal was that strong. Yes, he's scary and imposing, but I always thought that was just an image… a façade to make people obey his every self-important command. Now I know otherwise. He can hurt me, and he will. And yet, in that moment, I care less than I ever have before.

He says nothing. I say nothing. Ruth, who must have heard the sound of flesh against flesh and ran into the room to see what all the commotion was, says nothing.

Silence. It has a sound, you know.


	6. An Emergency Indeed

Chapter Six

April 14th, 1912

_When destiny calls, you must be strong. I may not be with you, but you've got to hold on._

When I was six years old, my parents had me sit for a painting for the first time. I sat up straight, with my back arched, the pain that ebbed up and down my spine masked by an almost-smile for nearly four hours. It hurt, and it was so boring, especially for a young child. Ever since then, I had one done every year, just like everybody else. Each time I would sit perfectly still, not daring to speak or even to move a muscle, never mind voicing my discomfort. Sometimes, and especially lately, every day has felt like sitting through one painting after another without ever saying a word, and I'm tired of it. I'm not doing it anymore.

"I don't know where Rose is," I say clearly, although my voice comes out a little bit louder than I would have liked it to. Still, it's something. I take a deep breath and continue, a little bit more quietly. "I don't know where she is but even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. I'm tired of you walking all over me!"

For a split second, and only a split second, I regret having said anything at all. Then, all of a sudden, it's like there's this great weight lifted off my shoulders; like standing up and stretching out your back after sitting in one position for hours. All of the pain and tension is gone, not in the slow and gradual way you would expect, but suddenly, as though it had been lifted by a divine hand you always knew existed but had almost forgotten about entirely. That's not even the best part, though. That would have to be the look on Uncle Cal's face. He's angry, I can tell… furious, even. But he doesn't act on it because he knows, as of three seconds ago, he has no power over me.

"Just… go…" he orders. "We are going to dinner in ten minutes. Go… now!"

I move, but I do not think about it. In fact, the only way I have to prove that I'm still alive is the way that I can feel my legs moving under me, walking towards my stateroom and making a heavy thudding noise on the floor. I can't think, I can't speak… I stand perfectly still and erect as Nicole ties me into a chocolate and gold evening gown and pins my hair up with a sparkling gold comb. I stare at my reflection, unable to understand how things can change so fast… how I can be outside one moment, feeling more free than I ever have before, and then to be pinned down and restrained like a rabid dog the next. Even more amazing to me is where in the world the strength to open my mouth came from. I have never felt like that before; so full of anger and hatred just screaming to get out. The girl the stares back at me is not the same girl that I would have seen mere minutes ago.

Neither of us speak as Nicole ties up and pins my hair. I wonder if she heard everything that just happened. It was loud enough, after all. The silence is awkward but as the storm inside me calms itself, it gives me a chance to think. Where is Rose? I know this morning she told me that she was never going to see Jack again, but obviously she changed her mind… well, hopefully, anyway. Maybe those two crazy people on the bow of the ship really were Jack and Rose. God knows what they were doing, but whatever it was I'm sure they had a reason. I wonder how long she'll be gone, or if she'll even come back. I decide, much more easily and quickly then I would have before today and without even that much thought, that if she doesn't get back by tomorrow morning, I'm going to go off and find her myself, and hopefully she and Jack will let me stay with them.

I don't want to be here anymore. I'm sick and tired of being told what to do all the time, and if I have any choice in the matter, I'm not going to spend another day with Uncle Cal from the moment this ship docks.

As I get up from my seat, I whisper, "Thank you, Nicole." She nods, but I can't really look at anything but the ground. I am afraid to walk out into the sitting room and look into Uncle Cal's eyes. Even though I know I'm doing the right thing, plotting my escape or whatever you want to call it, that doesn't make it any easier. Uncle Cal is still like an elastic band that's stretched to its limits and is just waiting to break open and fly across the room, and I don't want to be the one to make that final tug.

As I walk out, I just manage to catch Uncle Cal whispering to Lovejoy, that stupid manservant he totes around with him for no real reason besides permitting him to be even lazier than he already is.

"-back by ten o'clock, or I swear to God, there will be hell to pay for more than one person on this ship, do you understand me?"

For just a moment, my eyes catch his, and there is a look in them that sends shivers down my spine. He's really angry- angrier than I've ever seen him before. In a way I can understand; no one would like it if some random person who your fiancée had met just days ago stole her from you, but come on! Maybe if he would take a look in the mirror, he would realize just why Rose doesn't want to be with him.

"Ah, ready now, Madeline?" he asks, as though nothing just happened between us and as though I didn't hear what he just said. Has he no shame? Does he think he can just strut around like everything in the universe is a possession that he can buy? Does he think he owns Rose or something? I want to scream; to lash out again, but I can't. Whatever managed to work its way inside me mere minutes ago has worked itself out again, and I feel as though my mouth has been sewn shut. I wish I knew where Rose was, just so I could go and tell her how I felt. She would understand. She always does.

I nod and follow him and Ruth out into the hallway. Dinner last night was so different from tonight. I can almost feel the atmosphere that had been in the room last night as I walk down the grand staircase, imagining Rose and Jack gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, and myself thinking how nice it would be to feel like that. How sad is it that, only hours ago, I really believed that I might be getting that same chance. I don't want the think about Aiden now, because it just hurts too much to accept the fact that unless I run away, which it's pretty much impossible to do on a ship, I'm never going to see him again. Yet I can't push his face from my mind… I can't get him out; the way he makes me so happy, and how when I'm with him I can pretend that none of this exists. I also can't forget the soft touch of his lips on mine. I keep running my finger over them, expecting them to burst into flame at any minute or something like that.

It amazes how I can be so happy and so sad at the same time. I don't really know how to describe everything that's floating around me right now. I just know that it feels like to too much- like there's someone hanging around in my brain and just feelings it with brand new emotions and impossible problems, and they're just bent on destroying my sanity.

As we sit down to dinner, a few people at our table share looks amongst each other- where is Rose? And, more importantly, how did she manage to slip away from the claws of Cal and Ruth? Of course they don't dare voice their thoughts, because going against the grain is as good as death around these people and everyone knows it. That is, everyone except Molly Brown. Or maybe it's just that she doesn't care what anybody else thinks. Either way, she speaks up first.

"Hey guys, where's Rose?" she asks. "Off galavantin' with Jack no doubt," she said, laughing at herself. She's probably right- in fact, they were probably the crazy people standing on the bow – but still. I can't help but be worried. I haven't seen Rose all day, and that's just not natural.

Uncle Cal almost jokes on his food, as though he just realized that. I think it's pretty obvious myself, but I guess some people will always live denial. Just seeing him so flustered instantly lightens my mood.

His face turns red as he replies, "Oh, don't worry, Molly. I'm sure she'll be back some time soon."

The look in Molly's eyes makes we want to burst out in a fit of laughter as she says, "No need, Caledon. She'll be in good hands no doubt." Uncle Cal must have missed the joke, because he just nods and looks away, as though free thinking is contagious. Molly doesn't stop though- evidently, Jack left the same impression on her as he did everyone else.

"And how is Mr. Dawson, by the way, Cal? You seen him since last night?" If she has a half a brain, which I'm sure she does, Molly knows full well that Uncle Cal has never and will never see Jack again, and is rather just trying to push his buttons. Sometimes I love that woman.

Uncle Cal shakes his head, not looking the least bit interesting in anything to do with either Jack or Molly. I understand that we all have the right to our opinion, but come on. He could at least try to make it look like he doesn't hate everyone that isn't himself. My God, he's disgusting.

"I haven't, but I do believe Madeline has. Isn't that right, love?" His disgusting smile is in stark contrast to the way he growled down at me mere minutes ago. Sometimes I can't even describe the way he makes me feel… the way I want to tear at him and hurt him and make him feel the way he makes me feel. I know it's not right to think those things, but I can't help it. He makes me so indescribably angry! But then, what am I going to do? I have to play along, or I'll just make things worse- which is probably what he's expecting.

I smile sweetly as I say, "As a matter of fact, Rose and I were just visiting with him last night. He's an amazing man, in all honesty. Rose seems to like him quite a lot, anyway."

People like us have been trained our whole lives to hide what we're truly feeling whenever it goes against social standards, which means that no one fell off their chairs or anything after I said that. In fact, everyone just smiles and nods as though it's perfectly normal that Rose and I spent three hours in steerage last night. That is, everyone except Uncle Cal. I knew he wouldn't have expected me to say that, and his face is just priceless. I beam at everyone and take a sip of water from my glass, trying hard to hide my satisfaction.

Even though no one else made mention of it, I must have shocked the entire table because we continue our meal in silence. From where I sit, I can see right out the window, and I can't help but stare at the gorgeous view outside. The dark, shadowy blue colour of night is just settling over the horizon, with the stars glistening overhead. I'm sure it's freezing out, but it's just so indescribably beautiful and I have the strangest longing to run outside and just lean right over the edge of the railing until I'm threatening to fall overboard. I wonder if that's how Rose felt two nights ago, and if that's what pushed her over the edge… that feeling of being so free from everything around her.

I've been trying so hard to keep my thoughts away from that night, especially because since then things have improved remarkably, but it's almost impossible. I will go to my grave remembering those three dark red lines carved in Rose's wrist. I wonder what she was doing when I woke up to the sound of things being broken. When she got back that night, her hair was hanging down her back. How did she take it out? Was she very calm, having planned everything out perfectly, or did she just get to her room and decide that she was tired of it? Did she claw at her hair ornaments and jewellery, just dying to break free from their grasp? Sometimes, when I think about those things… those little details… it's easier for me to understand why she would even think to do such a thing. All I really know is how I feel when I'm around Uncle Cal, and how badly I want to get away from him every minute of that time. I can only imagine what it must be like for Rose.

When I was really little, my father used to take me outside at night and we'd lay on the grass and look at the stars. After a while I would get cold, and he would pull me close to him and tell me that when I grew up and went out into the world without him, he would always be with me when I looked up at the stars. He said that if I was ever off traveling the world, visiting my family in America or just studying at university and I missed him, all I had to do was gaze up at the night sky and I'd know that he loved me. There's something so serene about tonight- so beautiful and calm- that I feel as though Mother and Father are almost here with me. Maybe it's because I'm worried about Rose, or because of Aiden or even Uncle Cal, but whatever it is, I can feel their presence. It's as though their whispering to me, telling me that they're here and that they can see me. Just as the cold air from outside manages to work its way through the thick, safe walls of the _Titanic_, tonight I feel like my parents are bridging the gap between my world and theirs. Just the thought of it sends shivers down my spine.

"Are you alright, there, Madeline?" Molly asks, looking at me with concern. "You look a little pale."

I shake the feeling away, realizing that I've completely forgotten where I am. "I'm fine, Molly. It's just cold here, that's all." That, by the way, is a lie. I don't know why, but all of a sudden I'm really worried about Rose and Jack. I just wish I knew where they were. I wish they were here.

Dessert is served, and Mr. Ismay decides to reignite the spark of conversation which seems to have fizzled out. Unfortunately, he also decides to use me as the flint.

"You've been very quite during this whole trip, Madeline," he says, nodding in my direction. "Tell me; how are you finding sailing in first class on the grandest ship in the world?"

These people truly are idiots. Every time they open their mouths, they give me another opportunity to flabbergast them.

"The accommodations are absolutely lovely, Mr. Ismay," I remarks, straightening my back and smiling like the lady I've always been taught to be. "Although to be quite honest I think I prefer the little time I've spent down in steerage. The people there are so friendly. In fact, I spent the afternoon with a young man from the third class just today."

Mr. Ismay nods grimly and slowly touches his fingertips together. He's speechless. Perfect.

"Madeline!" Uncle Cal snaps. To be honest, I'm impressed he's even made it this far. He lowers his glare, as though everyone else isn't already staring. I meet his eyes, unafraid. I'm just too tired of this to bother being afraid of him anymore. "Mind it, Madeline."

My God, I have had it up to here with him. Some sick, twisted thing at the back of my mind that feels like a person I've never met before wants to pick up the odd-looking pastry type thing on the table and just throw it at his face. Did he ever once stop to consider that if he wasn't so cruel to everyone around him and maybe said a nice thing once in a while, I wouldn't say bad things about him? These people are all the same! Absolutely useless every single one of them.

I don't respond; not even a nod. I just look back down at the food in front of me. Who comes up with the ideas for the food they give us? Who wants to eat something if they don't even know what it is? And does anyone actually like caviar? Right now everything is making me angry, and I don't know why. Maybe it's a combination of everything that's been building up inside of me, but I just feel like grabbing something and ripping it to pieces. I really regret being so rude to Rose this morning, because maybe if I hadn't, then she would be here right now and she could listen to me. I can't talk to anyone else. I don't even understand anyone else.

We finish eating and, as usual, the men go off into the smoking room to compare each other's wives, stocks and brands of tobacco. Even stupid things like that are seen as assets for competition among this morons. I don't think I'm supposed to know this, but Rose complains about it all the time. Us women are left at the table and we are expected to gossip about equally stupid things, like who we saw wearing what and who didn't get invited to whose cotillion and such. Understandably, however, that is the last thing people are interested in right now. Apparently Uncle Cal's suspicion has rubbed off on the rest of the table, as they all lean in close to me, as though expecting me to tell them some deep dark secret.

When I don't say anything, everyone does the typical thing and refuses to speak up. That is, everyone but Molly.

"Alright, Madeline," she says, sounding more concerned for Rose rather than just nosey, like everyone else. "Do you really not know where Rose has run off to?"

I really don't know why nobody believes me. Do they not think, especially Molly, that if I had been helping Rose to run off with Jack, that I wouldn't be with them myself? But then, of course the don't. They love the way we live and they probably expect that I do as well. I don't even have words to describe them... sometimes I get so angry with the world that the faces of people just float and in and out like a skin-coloured blurs covered in makeup and jewels- featureless, heartless, meaningless. I wonder if that's what Rose saw the night she met Jack.

I take a deep breath and say, "I swear, I don't know. If I knew where she was I would tell someone." I pause. No one looks as though they really believe me. Should they? "Honestly, I would."

Molly nods and smiles at me sympathetically. "I'm sure you would," she says, but still looks rather unsettled. I don't understand what all the fuss about, to be honest. I'm sure if I were to tell that to Molly she would wave it off and say something like, 'Oh, it's how they were raised. They don't know any different.' But weren't Rose and I raised the same way? Why is it so easy for the two of us to know what is right and fair, and so difficult for everyone else? I know that Rose's parents' marriage was arranged- she told me once. I wonder how Ruth felt about it. Was she angry and rebellious on the inside, and just to meek to voice it, or did she genuinely not care what happened to her? For the first time in the last two days, I look up at Ruth- really, truly look at her, right into her eyes. There is something in them- something odd, and so very untypical of her. She looks nervous; frightened, almost.

I have never thought of Ruth DeWitt Bukater as anything but an evil, horrible woman who is trying to make her daughter's life Hell - the same thing Uncle Cal is doing to me - and least of all as a mother. Yet, she is definitely just that, and like every mother, she would be worried about her daughter when she hasn't seen in her for hours. And just like everyone else, she probably blames me. How would I feel if my mother had lost me, and she thought it was Rose's fault? What would I want Rose to do? I've said all that I can- I don't know where Rose is or why she's gone missing, and that's it. I look up at Ruth and smile softly at her, as though to tell her that it will all be okay. Much to my surprise, she smiles back.

I can almost feel the warmth of my own mother's smile- something I haven't felt in a long time. There is definitely something different in the air tonight.

"Well then," Ruth says, rising from her seat. "Madeline and I really should be off. We wouldn't want Rose returning to an empty state room."

The other woman nod and wave as Ruth leads the way out of the dining room. As soon as we've freed ourselves from the hustle and bustle of the crowd, she turns on her heels and shoots a piercing glare right at me.

"Madeline," she says very slowly, as though trying to control something that's bubbling up inside of her, "I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt because you seemed very genuine back there. But let me tell you, if I ever find an ounce of proof that you helped Rose escape to that gutter rat earlier this afternoon, so help me God, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

In my opinion, that's a little bit of an over reaction, but Ruth's icy glare is enough to keep my attitude in check. "I understand, Mrs. DeWitt Bukater."

We walk in silence for the rest of the short journey, and when we arrive I retreat immediately to my stateroom so that I can change into a more comfortable dress. Normally I would be getting ready for bed after dinner, on Uncle Cal's orders, but he isn't here right now and I'm not going to sleep until Rose gets back. I don't think I could even if I tried. I let my hair out of it's tight coiffure and run my fingers through my long blonde waves, massaging my scalp as I do so. Normally my hair is bone straight, but the one advantage of having it pulled up is that it curls when I take it down. I change into a light green promenade dress, and put on a matching hat, just for the heck of it. As I study my reflection in the mirror, I find that I look an awful lot like my mum. I don't really know whether that makes me happy or sad, but whatever I'm feeling, it's powerful. Almost like when I was staring out the window at the ocean.

I've never really been one to believe in ghosts, but somehow I know that my parents are with me tonight. I don't know how and I don't know why, but I can feel them- something deep inside me that has been missing since they died is back now. I smile, and the reflection in the mirror smiles back. I really do look an awful lot like my mother.

When I go back into the sitting room, Ruth has dressed in a silk robe, presumably overtop of her nightgown. I guess she had the same idea I did. Avoiding her gaze, I curl up in the corner of the couch and stare at a Monet that rests in the corner of the room. It's a watercolour of a pond that has several lily pads gracefully floating around on top of the water. The rest of the paintings in our rooms belong to Rose, but this one is mine. Mum and Dad owned several painting which will all be mine when I turn eighteen, but for now they, along with everything else, belong to Uncle Cal. I stare at the painting for a while longer, remembering the place in my bedroom where it used to hang, then look around at the rest of the room. I avoid making eye contact with Ruth, because she would surely try to start a conversation and work for information out of me... information that I don't have.

Ruth and I have absolutely nothing in common, so needless to say that sitting here alone with her, waiting around for the same thing with nothing to talk about, is fairly awkward. I wish Rose would just burst in through the door right now, with Jack and Aiden on her heels, grab me by the hand and whisk me away, leaving Ruth standing there looking shocked. I try and fail to stiffle my laughter at such an image, and Ruth raises a curious eyebrow in my direction. I look down at my feet and say nothing.

The silence that fills the room now is not like the silence that filled it before dinner. This one is empty and quiet, if not a little bit awkward- the way silence should be. I have no way of knowing how much time has passed- only that it feels like hours. In due time, I rise from the couch and pace back and forth, then sit down in an armchair for a while. Ruth and I both move around each other in silence, as though trying to avoid the reason we're waiting like this. For the first time in my life, I find myself wishing Uncle Cal was here, because at least he'd have something to say; a way to make the time pass faster.

I don't know how long we've been sitting her without a word when our dark, sacred silence is penetrated. For a moment, just a moment, there is a shudder. It is what I imagine one might feel as the warning sign of an earthquake, but just as quickly as it came, it stops. It was very quiet and very subtle, but it was enough to pull me out of the depths of my thoughts. What was it? What happened? Instantly, the alarms start to go off in my brain and I jump conclusions from bad to worse.

"Did you... did you feel that?" I ask Ruth. She doesn't even have to respond. There is a grave look of fear in her steely eyes that speaks volumes, and I just know she is thinking of what could possibly have happened and how it would effect Rose. Maybe Ruth isn't as bad as I've made her out to be.

Before she gets a chance to reply, Uncle Cal bursts through the door and shuffles across the room to the place where he keeps his stupid safe. He has brought the Master at Arms with him, as though rather than waiting for Rose, he is hunting down a hostile criminal. It doesn't surprise me that the first place he goes is to check on the safe- he has a ridiculous obsession with that thing and insists upon checking it every time he returns to the stateroom. Usually there is nothing missing, but this time appears to be different. He holds a piece of paper in his hand that appears to have charcoal markings all over it, but I can't quite see what it is. There is another piece of paper as well- just a scrap that must have been laying around- and although I've got no idea what it says, it makes Uncle Cal grow very angry very quickly. His face turns a million shades of red as he whispers something to Mr. Lovejoy, who promptly leaves the room.

"I'm going to ask you... one more time..." he growls, walking back over towards me. "Where is that slut and her goddamn lover? I know you know, Madeline!"

"I swear, I have no idea!" I shout, preparing myself for another backhand. Thankfully, just as he leans over me, the door swings open.

I have never been so happy to see two people in my entire life as I am to see Rose and Jack right now, but the looks on their faces bring me back to earth at the speed of sound.

"Something serious has happened!" Rose exclaims. She looks like she's seen a ghost, and there's something in her eye that fills the whole roo m and goes into my own mind, making me shake with nervousness at whatever it is that's happened. I glance over at Rose, who is clutching tightly at her robe as though holding on for dear life. Probably at the sight of Jack. My Lord, these people need to grow up.

"That's right," Uncle Cal says, completely dismissing her as though she were a mouse scampering across the floor whose thoughts mean absolutely nothing. "Two things dear to me have gone missing this evening. Now that one is back, I have a pretty good idea where to find the other one. Search him!" he orders the Master at Arms.

As soon as he says that, everything starts happening so fast. Mr. Lovejoy yanks Jack's coat off his shoulders and stuffs his hands in the pockets. Neither Jack nor Rose seems to have any idea what's going on, and they both start to protest immediately.

"This is horseshit!" Jack shouts, rolling his eyes. I don't know what Uncle Cal thinks he did, but I have half a mind to jump up and declare that whatever it is, he didn't do it. How amazing is it that you can be waiting for one thing, just holding your breath in hopes that the one thing happens and happens very soon, and then when it does, it is completely the opposite of the way you had planned it to be. It's like waiting for the first, gentle snowfall of winter, and then, before you know it, you're hit with a blizzard so bad you can't even open your door.

"You can't be serious," Rose shouts at Uncle Cal, and it's as though we are thinking with the same mind- as though she knows the words that won't come out of my mouth. But when I expect her to stop, she continues. "We're in the middle of an emergency and you-"

"Is this it?" an unfamiliar man says, pulling a sparkling blue diamond necklace out of Jack's pocket. Everyone instantly averts their attention to this find- this one single thing that they have been searching for. The proof that Jack did something wrong; that he is a bad person. Which, of course, is untrue. No one else seems to have noticed the last bit of what Rose said- _we're in the middle of an emergency._ They ignore her as though she is a an unwanted mouse scampering across the floor. I don't understand these people at all. Instead of addressing whatever sort of emergency we're experiencing, they choose to create one of their own, with Jack at the centre of it.

I get up and cross the room slowly and quietly, so as not to defile this shrine to the gods of prejudice. Standing beside Rose, I whisper, "What emergency?"

She doesn't say anything. Her eyes are fixed on Jack, and she is in such a state of shock that she appears not to have heard me. Either that, or she is just choosing to ignore me.

"That's it," Uncle Cal says simply, taking the jewel in his hand and shoving it into his pocket. I look from Rose, to Jack, and back at Rose. There is something in her eyes that's hovering right over the line between belief and disbelief. How could she even question him? I don't know how that necklace got in Jack's pocket, but I know he didn't put it there. And anyways, does that really matter right now? Rose said it herself- we're in am emergency. I don't know what she meant by that, but every single one of us just felt that spine-tingling shudder, and now everyone is choosing to ignore it. I have never thought Uncle Cal or Ruth to be highly intelligent, but come one! Rose wouldn't just say something like that for attention. Something is wrong; why can't anybody see that?

The Master at Arms takes out a set of handcuffs. "Right then. Don't make a fuss," he says, fastening them around his wrists.

"Rose," I say, a little bit louder this time. "Rose, what's going on? What's happening?"

Nothing. Nothing at all. Jack pleads for Rose to believe him, but all she can do is stare. Jack and the Master at Arms fight over something, but I don't even know what it is- something to do with a jacket. I can't pay attention to anything but Rose and the way she is ignoring me and everyone else around her. And then it dawns on me: the way I felt yesterday as Rose went off with Jack in the morning, and again when we went down to the steerage party; that thing I thought was abandonement? I was wrong. It was jealousy. The part of me that I hate - the part that is still very much a young child - the part that was jealous of Cora because she has her parents, the part that wants to throw things at Uncle Cal constantly, and the part that wants the one person in the world who cares about me to stay by my side and not leave me alone in this world once again - is rearing its ugly head again. I want to kill that stupid thing, but sometimes, like right now, it's stronger than I'll ever be.

The Master at Arms is yanking Jack away in handcuffs now, and Ruth lays her hand gently on Rose's shoulder. Even at this, a rare gesture of compassion from her mother, she can do nothing but stare at the place where Jack's feet once were- she can no longer look him in the eye. What is wrong with her? She said it herself- we are in an emergency! _Unfortunately,_ I feel like shouting, _none of us know what emergency that is because all you care about is him! _Doesn't she know that we've worried sick about her since feeling that shake, and that we've been wondering what caused it and when she'd be getting back to us? Doesn't she care where I ran off to when this morning, and what I did while I was gone? Doesn't she care that her mother is showing her love for the first time in her life? Of course she doesn't.

As Jack disappears down the hall, Ruth says coldly, "Why do women believe men?"

The better question, I think, is why do people believe that someone loves them?


End file.
